Supernatural: The Evolution of Elizabeth Martin
by ivory-sword
Summary: Elizabeth Martin is harshly introduced to the supernatural when her best friend is murdered. This series will follow her life in connection to Sam, Dean, and Castiel as she learns more about herself and how the things we don't always see can change our lives forever.
1. Ghost Stories

_Author's note: I had published this story on here back in 2009 but took it down for some reason that I don't remember. I have this whole story written and another that I'm currently editing. I honestly have no idea why I took it down, so I decided to put it back up again! I'll update this every few days, and since it's already fully written, you don't have to wait for ages like with my other stories. Yay!_

* * *

**Part One**

**Dead in the Night**

**Ghost Stories**

_Haskins, Ohio_

_June 22, 2007_

"Kind of spooky, isn't it?" Rae commented to her best friend and roommate. She pulled off her shades and stepped across the groaning floorboards.

"Yeah…" Ever since they had set foot in the house, Elizabeth had felt goose bumps creeping up her arms. "Why did we pick this one again?" She shut the front door with a creak, leaving them in darkness. "Notice the lack of windows, for instance…."

Rae sighed. "The rent was cheap, and I mean _dirt _cheap. The old man who owns this place obviously doesn't know anything about the market these days. Besides, there are windows, just not in this hall." Walking confidently down the dark hall, she entered the living room. "We just need to turn on some lamps," she said, flipping the switch and throwing the room into artificial light.

Elizabeth walked over to the window, throwing open the dusty curtains and letting in the harsh daylight. "Much better," she said to herself.

"Why don't you crack a window? It smells like a rat curled up and died in the wall," Rae commented, holding her nose.

"One probably did." Elizabeth opened the window with a sickening creak. "Did he even clean the place before we moved in?" she asked. "Look, there are layers of dust _everywhere_."

"Well, maybe that's why the rent was low. I mean, he's pretty old. He was in a wheel chair, remember? Take pity on the guy!" She rolled her eyes.

"Let's see the rest of the house," Elizabeth suggested, tugging on Rae's sleeve. They entered the kitchen next which sat off of the living room. Rae pulled up the blinds, sending out a spray of dust. "I bet he bought that refrigerator when refrigerators were first invented."

"Well, good thing we brought the mini-fridge," Rae said, smirking.

The rest of the house proved to be just as dusty as the previous rooms. The stairs creaked so loudly Elizabeth expected her foot to fall through the wood at any moment. "Next time, I pick the apartment, okay?"

"Two bedrooms," Rae noted, ignoring Elizabeth's comment. "Do you want to draw straws?"

"No, I don't care which one I get. I'm sure they're both equally creepy." She peered into the room to the left. "This is fine." Entering, she went straight to the window and pulled open the curtains, cracking open the window. There was a dusty queen bed and a tall armoire that sat across from each other, taking up most of the small room. A vanity sat against the other wall. The mirror was so covered in dust Elizabeth could not see her reflection. It looked as if the house had not been lived in for years. She shivered involuntarily.

"Find any ghosts?" Rae said, appearing suddenly. Elizabeth jumped, making Rae laugh.

"No. Don't do that, you know I hate being scared like that."

"Cheer up, grumpy." Rae flipped back her long, auburn hair. "Come on, let's get some dinner, I'm starving!"

"When did the movers say they'd be here?"

"Tomorrow morning. Until then, we're stuck with what we have." Elizabeth dumped her backpack on the bed, sending up more dust.

"Great. We have to clean the freaking house before we can even sit down. _And_ we have no cleaning supplies."

"Look, I'll run to the store after dinner," Rae said, tugging Elizabeth down stairs.

After a light dinner of mac and cheese, Rae started toward the door. "I'll be right back," she said, jangling her car keys.

"Wait, you're not leaving me here alone! I'm coming," Elizabeth yelled, grabbing her coat. Rolling her eyes again, Rae waited for her.

"You are so chicken."

"You cannot truthfully say this place doesn't give you the creeps at all!" Elizabeth retorted.

"No, not really."

"Well, we'll see what you say after it gets dark," Elizabeth muttered, climbing into the passenger seat of the black Honda Civic.

At the supermarket, they bought cleaning supplies and stocked up on macaroni and cheese and Spaghetti O's. At the checkout, the woman asked if they were new in town.

"Yeah, we just moved into the old house down Warut Street."

"The Riggle House?" the lady asked, looking slightly spooked.

"Yes, what do you know about it?" Elizabeth asked, once again feeling goose bumps up her arm.

"Not much," the cashier said, shifting her feet. "It once belonged to Mr. Riggle, but after his wife died, he moved out; into an assisted living facility. A few families have lived there over the years, but they haven't stayed long."

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked, her interest peaked.

"Well, I don't want to scare you, but the former occupants complained about disturbances in the night. They thought the house was haunted. But that was never proved." She smiled. "I'm sure the house is perfectly fine."

"I'm sure," Elizabeth said, forcing a smile back. Inside she was wishing she hadn't asked about the house.

"Did you leave the upstairs light on?" Elizabeth asked Rae as they pulled into the driveway. "That costs money, Rae. Money we don't have."

"I didn't leave a light on. That's coming from your room," Rae defended herself.

"Well, I didn't leave it on." Elizabeth gasped. "You don't think it was-"

"A ghost? No." Rae laughed it off, slamming the car door shut and clicking the automatic lock button. "Come_ on_!" Rae went up the steps, unlocking the door and switching on the hall light. The bulb flashed on and then suddenly flickered, going out. "Great. Well, hopefully there's a new bulb in the cupboards." She walked down the dark hallway, groping the wall for support.

Elizabeth stood frozen to the doorstep, afraid to walk in. She heard Rae call her from within and finally, with a deep breath, she walked in and shut the door. At once she was thrown in utter darkness. She felt her way along the wall, her heart beating quickly. "Rae?" she called out. There was no answer. She quickened her steps, the floorboards creaking loudly beneath her. "Rae?" she shouted.

"What?" Rae flicked on the kitchen light, poking her head into the hallway. "Scared?" she asked, smirking.

"Yes, I am actually. Didn't you hear that lady?"

"You mean you actually believed her?" Rae asked.

"Yeah, I did."

"She was probably just making the whole thing up. Anyway, here's a spare light bulb. Go see if it works. Or are you too scared to wander into the dark hallway alone?" she mocked.

Elizabeth glared at her, taking the light bulb and heading into the hall. She unscrewed the burned out one and screwed in the new one. The hallway was suddenly thrown into light. Blinking, Elizabeth turned toward the kitchen. Suddenly a dark shadow caught her eye. Looking up the stairs, she saw a shadow disappear into her room. "Rae?" she asked. How had her friend slipped past her?

"What now?" Rae asked from the kitchen. Elizabeth stared up at the staircase, but the shadow was gone. _Just my imagination_, she told herself. In the kitchen, Rae was putting away the groceries. "Did the ghosts get you?" she asked.

"Not funny." Elizabeth didn't mention the shadow.

"Come on. We've got a lot of cleaning to do before bed. Let's go." Rae grabbed the cleaning supplies and headed upstairs. Elizabeth followed, looking around everywhere for a hint of a shadow, but nothing was there. Sighing, she set to cleaning off the queen bed, making sure to check under it before she climbed in for the night. Despite the fact that every door and window was locked, it took Elizabeth hours to fall asleep. She pulled the covers close to her head, eyes darting around the room until she finally drifted off.

The clock glared 3:14 a.m. at Elizabeth. She moaned, turning over. It had been this way all night, waking up every hour, tossing and turning over and over. Elizabeth curled her legs up to her stomach. She stared at the wall, feeling wide awake instead of sleepy. Suddenly a motion caught her eye. She looked to the left a little, at the small, dusty vanity. Sitting upon the old chair was a thin, ragged woman. Elizabeth opened her eyes wide in horror. The old woman was wearing grey rags that hung off her skeletal frame. She was brushing her wispy, white hair with a hairbrush that had sat on the vanity. Elizabeth's breath caught. The woman stopped brushing, slowing setting down the brush. Elizabeth sat horrified as the woman slowly turned toward her. Rotting flesh covered her face and her throat was slit, dried blood lining the cut. Her eyes were white. Her teeth had fallen out. She reached out a hand to Elizabeth. All the flesh was gone from her hands showing the rotting bone beneath. Elizabeth screamed.

Throwing the covers from her, she ran for the door. "Rae!" she shouted, tripping into her friend's room. "Rae!" She flipped on the light. What she saw made her scream over and over. Rae lay on her back in bed, eyes wide open and mouth agape in a look of horror. The front of her white nightshirt was covered in thick, red blood. Her neck had been slit. Elizabeth fled from the room, not stopping until she was outside. She screamed for help.


	2. Sulfur Spots

**False Identities, Breaking Locks, and Sulfur Spots**

_Fort Wayne, Indiana_

_June 24, 2007_

The purr of the engine satisfied Dean. He stepped on the gas, speeding out of the cheap hotel parking lot. The black Impala roared down the road, leaving behind Fort Wayne, Indiana. "Loosen up, Sammy," he said to his younger brother.

"Dean, we could have saved her," Sam said, looking at Dean with a sorrowful expression.

"We did the best we could. There was nothing more we could do, and you know that."

"Yeah, I know." Sam flipped dejectedly through a newspaper he had picked up at a diner. "Hey, look at this. _Rae Benning, age 23, new resident of Haskins, Ohio, was found last night in bed with her throat slit. _ It goes on to say that the police haven't found any suspects. All the doors and windows were locked. The only other person there was her roommate whose name has been withheld. Doors and windows locked, I dunno, Dean, this sounds like our kind of job."

"Maybe. Or maybe her roommate did her in." He chuckled.

"Not funny." Sam glared at his brother. "It says that her roommate was the one who found her. They were best friends."

"Well, let's check it out." Dean pressed down on the accelerator, turning up the music as he did so. The Impala zoomed down the empty freeway, heading east toward Haskins, Ohio.

…

"I'm agent Miller and this is agent Harper. We're working on the Benning murder. We need to take a look at the autopsy and the police report." Dean flashed his fake badge with expertise, speaking confidently with the police chief. The chief looked suspiciously at the two badges, eyeing the young men who stood before him. One had short hair, spiked slightly at the top, and the other had dark hair that fell over his forehead and curled around his ears. Both appeared to be in their twenties.

"A little young to be agents," he commented, handing back the badges.

"Well, let's just say we were straight A students," Dean lied confidently with a convincing smile. _Of course Sammy _was_ a straight A student_, he thought, glancing at his brother with a smirk. Sam ignored him.

"We're in a bit of a hurry," he urged the chief.

"Right, right. I'll get the files. Don't understand what the FBI wants with this case…." he muttered under his breath. Unlocking his top drawer, he dug around until he found the right papers. Pulling them out, he handed them hesitantly to Sam. Nodding his thanks, Sam looked over the papers, Dean reading over his shoulder.

…

"All the doors and windows were locked, no fingerprints, no weapon. Dean, this has got to be an angry spirit. I looked into the history of the house and found out that this wasn't the first murder," Sam said as they left the police station.

"When did you have time to research this?" Dean asked, surprised.

"When you were flirting with the secretary," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Dean grinned. "Heidi is 25, single, and loves Mexican food and romantic movies," he recited, flashing a phone number scribbled on the back of a business card at Sam.

"Anyway," Sam went on, ignoring Dean, "the house originally belonged to a Jacob Riggle. He built the house himself in 1912 for his wife, Daphne. They lived there happily until suddenly, in 1992, his wife was found dead. She was lying in bed, and her throat was cut. In the end, they figured that she had slit her own throat. All the doors and windows had been locked, and her husband had been out at Bible study when it happened. Jacob Riggle immediately sold the house. He never believed that she killed herself, but the police wouldn't listen to him. He claimed that 'evil spirits' had killed her."

"But why? Did the house have any previous hauntings?" Dean asked.

"No, that's just it. After her death, Riggle put the house up for rent, and that's when the hauntings began. In 1993, a family of three moved in. A week later, all three were found dead in their beds with their throats slit. The police said it was attempted burglary, but no one was ever arrested. In 1997, another family moved in. This time a husband and wife. They were both found a few days later-" He cocked his head to the side, looking at Dean.

"In their beds with their throats cut," Dean finished. Sam nodded.

"Exactly. Then, in 1999, another family, another murder. No one rented the house again until this year."

"And another murder happened right after they moved in. Someone doesn't want anyone living in that house."

"Or maybe someone does," Sam said. "Riggle knew about the murders and yet he kept putting the house up for rent. Maybe he was behind it all."

"But you said all the windows and doors were locked and there were no fingerprints."

"Yeah, but he probably had a spare key. It _is_ his house," Sam suggested.

"Well, the next thing we should do is interview the roommate. Why did she survive when no one else did before?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Sam stared out the windshield, pondering the question. "It breaks the pattern."

"Well, we'd better find out. Did the chief say where she was right now? Wasn't it a hospital?" Dean turned the key, starting the engine.

"Yeah, Wood County Hospital, 9 miles away in Bowling Green. She was really shaken up, I don't know if we'll be able to get much out of her. The chief did say she hardly spoke when he interviewed her." Sam shook his head, doubtful that they could do any better.

"Well, he isn't a handsome devil like me." Dean grinned. Seeing his brother's frown, he stopped smiling, focusing on driving. "What? That might help… you never know…." he muttered.

…

"Elizabeth Martin?"

Elizabeth looked up, meeting a set of green eyes.

"I'm Sam and this is Dean," Sam introduced. They had decided to ditch the agent cover to put the girl more at ease. "We're trying to find out who murdered your friend." Elizabeth shuttered.

"The police already asked me questions." She looked down at her hands, shaking slightly.

"We know that, but we think we might be able to help you," Sam said, smiling encouragingly.

"How?"

"Elizabeth, the night Rae died, did you notice anything strange?" Sam asked softly.

"Like?" Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to keep the memories out. Why did the police need to ask more questions?

"Strange noises, flickering lights, maybe the smell of sulfur…." Sam listed off.

Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard. Looking up at the man, she glared at him. "What sort of question is that? Sulfur? Flicking lights? That's crazy."

"Did you see something that night?" the other man, Dean, asked. He pulled up a folding chair, setting it in front of the hospital bed. Elizabeth gazed down at the plastic tag around her wrist, marking her as a patient.

"Elizabeth, you can tell us. We'll believe you," Sam said softly. His hazel eyes were honest, half hidden behind long, dark brown bangs. Elizabeth studied the other man. He shared the same hazel eyes but had short hair, spiked slightly at the top.

"Who are you?" she whispered. They did not look like police, and yet they asked questions as if they had the authority to.

"We're people who can help you. Private investigators," Sam explained. "We deal with murders like this."

"Like what?" Elizabeth skimmed around the main point.

"Where the doors and windows were all locked and there was no motive and no suspects. You can trust us," Sam added.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, finally deciding to tell her story. She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked straight into Sam's green eyes. "I did see something," she started in a weak voice.

"What did you see, Elizabeth?" Dean prodded. Elizabeth flicked her eyes to his face.

She took another deep breath. "Let me start from the beginning. We moved into the Riggle house two days ago. I had a bad feeling from the start. It was so creepy, so dusty, as if no one had lived there in a decade. I thought I saw a shadow once, going upstairs. There was no one though." She found speaking to Sam and Dean easier than speaking to the police. Without realizing it, tears were running down her pale cheeks, mingling with her dark blonde hair. "That night, I couldn't sleep. I remember, it was 3:14 in the morning when I saw _her_…."

"Who? Who did you see, Elizabeth?" Sam asked.

"An old woman. She was so thin that her bones showed through her skin. And her skin was rotting. Her whole face was rotted. She was sitting at the vanity at my room, just brushing her hair," Elizabeth's voice rose as she remembered the old woman vividly within her mind. "She was dead. Her throat was slit." She didn't care how crazy it sounded; she just wanted someone to know the truth. She just wanted someone to tell her she wasn't crazy. "I screamed and ran into Rae's room. That's when I found her…." She couldn't continue on. Sobbing, she rocked back and forth, trying to calm herself. Sam moved over to the bed, sitting beside her and placing an arm around her shoulders.

"It's alright, it's okay," he said softly. "We believe you." Elizabeth turned to sob into his shirt, her whole body shaking.

"Elizabeth, did the spirit try to hurt you?" Dean asked.

Turning to look at him, Elizabeth thought back. "N-no. At least I don't think so. I ran as soon as she looked at me. She just pointed a finger at me. Why?"

"Nothing. Just wondering."

…

"Well, that was helpful. Now we know that the house is haunted by a spirit, obviously an angry one," Sam said, wiping his hands against his wet shirt. "But why didn't it kill Elizabeth?"

"She really soaked your shirt, didn't she?" Dean commented, smirking.

"Shut up. She was upset. How would you feel if your best friend got her neck slit and you were seeing ghosts?" Dean stopped laughing, pulling open the door to the Impala and slipping in. Sam climbed into the passenger's seat. "What next?" he asked.

"Well, since the house is empty, we should check it out. Pull out the EMF readers and see where the spirit's favorite hideout is." Dean turned the keys, starting the ignition. The Impala roared out of the hospital parking lot and down the road. "What street was it again?" he asked Sam as they came to a stop sign.

"Warut."

"Sounds creepy." Dean turned right and then took another left down Warut Street. It was obvious at once which house was the Riggle house. Tall and leaning, the old house stood out amongst the small, freshly painted one-stories. Crime scene tape waved yellow in the hot breeze. Parking across the street, Dean cut the engine and hopped out, grabbing his bag from the back seat. He and Sam ducked under the crime tape and walked up to the front door. Dean pulled out a lock-pick and jiggled it in the keyhole. After a second there was a satisfying click as the door unlocked. Pushing it open, Dean entered, Sam close behind.

Dean pulled out his homemade EMF reader, flicking the switch on and starting forward into the house. The floorboards creaked and groaned underfoot as he and Sam walked across them. "You take the upstairs, I'll take the downstairs," Dean said to Sam. Nodding, Sam started up the stairs, holding his own EMF reader out in front of him. It buzzed slightly, the meter waving back and forth. Each step creaked loudly as he walked up. "Sounds like they're going to collapse," he said aloud to himself. Reaching the landing, he moved toward the first bedroom. Observing the blood-free bed, he guessed that this was Elizabeth's room. Suddenly the EMF started buzzing loudly, the meter jumping forward. The closer he moved to the vanity, the louder it got. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Sam whirled.

"What've you got?" Dean appeared, his own EMF reader tucked away. "Downstairs is clean."

"Uh, well this bedroom is showing really strong EMF readings. Especially this vanity. That's where Elizabeth said the old woman was sitting."

"Dude, this house is dusty," Dean said, observing the mirror.

"Yeah, apparently old man Riggle wasn't much for housekeeping. Hey, look at this." Sam had opened one of the vanity drawers and pulled out an old black and white photo. "I wonder if this was Riggle's wife." He held the picture up for Dean to see. A young woman sat poised on a sofa. She wore a smile that lit up her face despite the photo quality.

"She looks like a happy person. Why'd she do herself in?" Dean asked, pulling open the other drawers.

"Maybe she didn't. Maybe she was murdered," Sam suggested.

"Stranger things have happened."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"Nothing else in here," Dean said, sliding the last drawer closed. He wiped a finger across the vanity surface, smelling the substance that smeared across his finger. "Sulfur."

Sam had moved over to the tall wardrobe. Opening the doors, he jumped back, yelling out in surprise.


	3. Motives

**Motives**

Sam jumped back, running into Dean as he did so. "What?" Dean asked, pushing Sam aside. Pushing the wardrobe door aside, he saw what had startled Sam. "Dude, it's just a fake." Dean swiped the disemboweled head from the rope it hung on. The rubber flexed under his grip.

"It looks real," Sam defended himself.

Dean started laughing. "You should have seen the look on your face."

"Shut up," Sam said half-heartedly. He grabbed the mask and smiled. "Someone's idea of a prank, I suppose."

"Come on, let's check out the other girl's bedroom."

Crime scene tape was stretched across the doorway. Sam and Dean slipped under it, entering the dead girl's room. The stench of blood hung in the air. The bed was stained crimson where the pool of blood had dried. Dean clicked his EMF on. "Not much here," he said as the reader buzzed weakly.

"The spirit must be connected to that room somehow," Sam said, gesturing at the bedroom they had just left. "Maybe that was where she died."

"We need to research the family a little more. Interview old man Riggle," Dean suggested.

"Alright, let's go." They turned to leave when suddenly they heard a key turning in the lock. Throwing themselves against the wall, they peered around the doorframe but were unable to see the door. They heard it open and then close. Footsteps could be heard climbing up the stairs and a shadow fell across the hallway. Sam and Dean nodded to each other and then jumped out, guns held out in front of them.

"Whoa! Hold it!" Sam sighed, lowering his gun. A deputy stood in front of them, hands raised. "Drop the guns!" He reached for his own gun. "What the hell are you two doing in here? This is a crime scene! I could have you both arrested," he threatened.

"Agent Miller and agent Harper," Dean said briskly, pulling out his badge. "Sorry to frighten you like that." He put his gun away.

"Damn, someone could have been shot." The deputy cast an unfriendly look over Sam and Dean. "What does the FBI want with this crime? Haskins isn't exactly New York City."

"You don't say?"

"We believe the murderer could be linked with a chain of murders. Can't take any chances," Sam replied quickly, cutting off Dean.

"We have to be going. See you around." Dean walked around the deputy.

"That was close," Sam said, sighing as they pulled safely off the street and away from the house. "Okay, so Riggle now lives at Sunshine Retirement Home." The building wasn't hard to locate. It stood two stories high with its brown paint peeling. The roof sagged slightly and the shrubs in the front lawn were dried up and dead.

"People live here?" Dean turned to Sam. "When I'm old, don't put me in one of these places, Sammy." Sam rolled his eyes. They walked into the building, observing the pea green walls and the torn upholstery on the chairs and couches in the lobby.

"Can I help you?" an uninterested woman asked from a desk. She peered over her horn-rimmed glasses, smacking a wad of chewing gum in her mouth.

"Uh, yeah, we'd like to visit Jacob Riggle," Sam said.

"Room 29, second floor," she replied.

"Thanks." They jogged up the stairs, heading down a dim hallway.

"Dude, this place could make you crazy," Dean said, frowning at the shaggy carpeting and the beige walls.

They stopped outside of room 29. Sam lifted a fist to knock on the door. There was a pause and then someone called "Come in" from within the room. Twisting the knob, Sam opened the door and the brothers walked in. Dean wrinkled his nose.

"Smells like a dead animal," he whispered to Sam.

"I'm in here," a call came from the next room. They walked into a living room, noting the threadbare carpet and falling apart chairs. An old TV stood propped up on two concrete bricks. Bunny ear antennas stuck out at odd angles, and a blurry image appeared on the screen. "Welcome to paradise." An old man sat in a wheel chair. His grey hair was long and greasy, half covering a wrinkled face and a set of dark brown eyes. He wore an old robe, covered in holes. Empty beer cans sat around, some fermenting.

"Jacob Riggle?" Sam asked.

"What's left of him," the old man answered gruffly.

"I'm Sam and this is Dean, we're investigating a string of unsolved cases."

"Let me see some badges!" he asked gruffly, pushing his wheel chair forward an inch.

Sam and Dean pulled out their badges, holding them out for Riggle to see. He eyed them for a few seconds and then grunted, pushing his wheel chair back. "What d'ya wanna know?"

"What can you remember from the night your wife died?" Sam asked.

Riggle glared at them. "That was ages ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday." He grabbed the nearest can of beer and took a swig. Dean tried to keep a straight face, feeling the sudden urge to cringe. "When I last saw Daphne, she was happy. She never woulda done herself in. I went to Bible study that night and when I came back, she was lying there at her vanity. Her throat was slit. I checked the whole damn house before calling the police, but there was no one there. I woulda shot that bastard. All the doors and windows were locked. The police said she killed herself. They don't know nothing. My Daphne would never have killed herself. I knew her like I knew myself. She was a Christian through and through. She never woulda committed the greatest sin."

"Do you remember anything strange from that night? Strange sounds, flickering lights, the smell of sulfur?" Dean questioned.

"Naw, nothing like that. But I tell you what I think. I think it was an evil spirit that got her." He leaned forward in his wheel chair.

"What makes you think that, Mr. Riggle?" Sam asked.

"Well, it had to be! No one else could have been in the house!" he yelled out.

"But you didn't seen anything?"

"No, haven't you been listening? I wasn't there!" He wheeled his chair toward them. "I told you all I know."

"Alright, thank you for your time." Sam smiled and then turned to follow Dean quickly out the door.

"That man is crazy," Dean said as they walked down the hall.

"Yeah, I mean, he didn't see anything that proved a spirit was in the house. Maybe he just can't accept that his wife killed herself."

"Or maybe there's something he's not telling." Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You think he killed his wife?" Sam queried.

"That would create a vengeful spirit," Dean said. "Or maybe Riggle did something that made her take her own life."

"Like was unfaithful to her or something?"

"That could make one pissed off spirit." Sam nodded. "She might have come back to torment him but since he was gone, she took out her anger on whoever lived in the house."

"Alright, we need to research the Riggle's more, dig into their history," Sam said, pulling out a map of Haskins when they reached the car. "Let's go to the library and see what we can find out."

Dean rolled his eyes. "College-boy," he muttered.

"What'd you say?" Sam asked, turning to glare at his brother.

"Huh? Nothing." Dean looked innocently at his brother.

…

"Listen to this." Sam flicked Dean on the shoulder, drawing his brother's attention away from one of the librarians.

"Man, usually librarians aren't my type but that blonde-"

"Dude, can we think with our upstairs minds for a minute?" Sam shoved the newspaper under Dean's nose. "1992, a month before Daphne Riggle died." He pointed to an article. "There was this whole scandal about Jacob Riggle embezzling funds from the company he worked for. This was back then he was president of the company. It was never proved, but the scandal got him fired. It also mentions that his secretary was supposedly involved. She was fired too."

"Interesting. So maybe the wife found out too much and got blabby," Dean suggested. "And then Riggle did her in."

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe there was more between Jacob Riggle and this secretary of his."

"Is the secretary's name mentioned? Maybe she's still around," Dean suggested.

"Yeah, Lucy Halfax."

"I think it's time to give Lucy a call." Dean stood, casting one more sidelong glance at the blonde librarian and then followed Sam out to the Impala.


	4. Cheap Motels and Vengeful Spirits

**Cheap Motels and Vengeful Spirits**

"Elizabeth?" Hearing her name being called, Elizabeth looked away from the window. "Honey, it's time to take some tests." The plump nurse smiled at her, holding a clipboard under her arm.

"What tests?" Elizabeth asked, huddling her knees against her chest.

"Just to make sure everything is alright. Nothing to worry about."

"Of course everything is alright." The nurse smiled apologetically.

"You hit your head when you fainted, dear, we need to make sure there's no damage."

"You think I'm crazy," Elizabeth surmised.

"That's not the word I would have used. Just a little…confused. Nothing that can't be fixed with a little therapy." Her sweet smile sickened Elizabeth.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Honey, you've been mumbling about ghosts in your sleep, and what you told the police, well, we just have to be sure."

"Can I make a call to my parents first?" Elizabeth asked, a plan forming in her mind. "I haven't had a chance to call them since the police just returned my belongings to me." She pulled her cell phone out of her purse.

"Of course. I'll wait outside."

Elizabeth waited until the nurse had left the room before jumping down from the windowsill. For two days she had sat in that room with the blank white walls and the scratchy blankets that smelled strongly of disinfectant. The quiet buzz of the hospital beyond the locked door would taunt her as she sat in her silent room, contemplating all that had happened. Sometimes she could almost imagine she heard whispering voices. Maybe she was crazy.

She grabbed a bag of her belongings and then returned to the window. She opened it noiselessly and then slipped through it. She was on the second story, but a tall tree stood right against the building. She grabbed a branch and pulled herself down, branch by branch until her feet met the hard ground. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen her, Elizabeth dashed across the lawn and toward the highway. Changing her clothes behind a bush, she stuffed the hospital clothes back in her bag. She would dispose of them later. The plastic band was still around her wrist, but she didn't have time to pull it off now. Checking to make sure she wasn't being followed, Elizabeth walked briskly down the empty highway. There were only two people in the world that believed her story. They were the only two people she would be safe with.

…

"Lucy Halfax?" Dean inquired as a petite blonde opened the door. _Whoa, she has got to be half Riggle's age,_ Dean thought to himself.

"Yeah, that's me," she replied, sizing up Dean. He smiled disarmingly.

"We just wanted to ask you a few questions." He flashed his badge at her.

"Sure, come on in." She led the brothers into a sitting room, motioning for them to sit down. "What can I do for you?" she asked, looking at Dean.

"We were wondering if you could tell us about Jacob Riggle," Sam asked before Dean could speak.

Lucy let out a laugh. "Old Jacob."

"You used to work for him as his secretary," Sam prodded.

"Yeah, I did. And more. Do you think I bought this house with my measly paychecks?" she asked, laughing.

"Then you were having an affair with Jacob Riggle?"

"Well, I wouldn't really call it that. I gave him what he wanted and he gave me what I wanted in return," she replied, pulling on the pearl necklace she wore.

"So you were just using him for his money?"

"Honey, you make it sound criminal. He's the one who approached me."

"What do you know about his wife?" Sam asked. "Did she know about you two?"

"Oh, no, we kept it quiet."

"What can you tell us about the embezzlement scam? Was Jacob really stealing money from the company?" Sam asked.

"I'm not sure. He never let me in on his schemes. You may not believe me, but that's the truth. After the alleged scam, the newspaper dug up some rumors about the two of us. None of them could be proved, but it got Jacob fired. He stopped seeing me after that, but I had what I wanted."

"You don't think the wife killed herself because she believed the article, do you?" Sam asked.

"How should I know? I wouldn't put it past her. She always hated me. She'd show up at the office everyday, keeping an eye on Jacob like she was his mother." She cast an adoring glance in Dean's direction. "I do miss all those fun times we used to have," she murmured.

"Well, thank you for your time," Sam cut in, standing quickly and heading toward the door. Dean followed reluctantly.

"My pleasure."

…

"So now we know a motive for Daphne's suicide, if she did kill herself," Sam said when they were back in the Impala.

"Yeah, and we know why her spirit is vengeful."

"Why wouldn't she go after her husband or Lucy, though? Why innocent people who live in that house. There has to be something more to this, Dean, it just doesn't fit together."

"Well, I don't know about you, brain-boy, but I'm getting tired. Why don't we check into a hotel and pick this up tomorrow." Seeing a cheap motel up ahead, Dean pulled into the lot. He rented a room, using a Warren Smith's credit card, and flirting with the girl working at the desk.

"Dude, how many phone numbers do you have? When are you going to actually call all these girls?" Sam asked when Dean came back with the girl's number.

"You never know when they could come in handy." Dean grinned, dropping his bag on one of the queen beds.

"Whatever." Sam pulled out his laptop, Googling the Riggle house.

"Find anything new?" Dean asked, flopping down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"No, nothing we don't already know."

"Dude, this bed is uncomfortable." Sitting up, Dean was about to switch on the TV when there was a knock at the door. He and Sam exchanged a cautious glance. Dean crossed the room over to the door and looked through the peephole. A girl stood outside, looking scared and holding a bag over her shoulder. Recognizing her, Dean opened the door.

"Elizabeth," Sam exclaimed, standing up and staring at the girl in surprise.

"Can I come in?" she asked timidly, looking around as if afraid someone would see her.

"Sure." Dean held the door open for her, shutting and locking it behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"How did you find us? We checked in like two minutes ago," Dean asked simultaneously.

"I was just lucky; I saw you pull in and check into a room. I've been looking for you all afternoon. I need help." She took a shaky step forward.

"Here, sit down." Sam grabbed her elbow and guided her to an armchair.

"Thanks." Elizabeth glanced up at the two men nervously. "I ran away from the hospital," she blurted out.

"Why?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. He sat on the edge of the bed across from her.

"They were going to have my head examined. They thought I was crazy. After you left, the police came back to question me again. I-I told them about the lady. They didn't believe me…." She looked down at the floor. Her dark blonde hair was tangled and her shoes and pants were dusty. Sam wondered if she had walked all the way from the hospital. "I had to get away. I'm not crazy." She looked up at Sam and then Dean, seeking reassurance.

"No, you're not," Dean replied. "What you saw was real."

"I'm sorry that you have to learn about this, but it's true," Sam added, gazing sympathetically at Elizabeth. He noticed that she was shaking slightly, her bright blue eyes wide with fright. The plastic band from the hospital was still around her wrist.

"Why was Rae murdered?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes filling up with tears. "Why her?"

"We're not sure yet. We know that she wasn't the first," Sam replied. He told her about the other murders and about Riggle's affair with his secretary. "We just know it's a vengeful spirit, but we don't know why it's killing the people who rent the house."

"Or why it didn't kill you," Dean added.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked suddenly.

"Well, what we told you before is sort of true," Sam explained. "We're sort of private investigators except we investigate supernatural things, crimes the police can't solve…."

"You hunt ghosts?" Elizabeth surmised.

"Uh, yeah, pretty much," Sam said with a smile.

Elizabeth nodded. "Two days ago I would have thought you were crazy, but today I don't. Listen, I'm sure I'm in a lot of trouble. The police probably think I killed Rae now. Can you help me?" she asked, looking pleadingly at Sam.

"Of course. Unfortunately, there's no way we can convince the police a ghost murdered your friend, but we'll try to figure something out."

"Thank you."

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Sam asked.

"No, I don't," she answered.

"Why don't you check into a room next door? That way we can keep an eye on you, and you can come to us for help if you need," Sam suggested. "It's probably best if you stay out of sight while you're in town."

"Alright." Elizabeth went to check in, smiling at Sam and Dean as she left the room.

Dean grinned. "Well, another damsel in distress."

"Dean, don't start. She's still really shaken up about her friend's death, and she just found out ghosts are real," Sam said moodily.

"She's cute, but she seems more like your type. Bookworm, walking dictionary…."

"Dude, shut up." Dean smirked at his younger brother.

"You're not seriously saying you're not a bit interested in her?" he asked.

"Honestly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind," Sam said exasperatedly. "I've been thinking more about how to kill this spirit."

"Salt and burn the bones, come on Sammy, you're getting rusty," Dean teased.

"That's not what I mean. We don't even know that it's her spirit that's murdering these people."

"Always asking questions first and shooting later…." Dean muttered.

…

Sunshine Retirement Home looked even drabber than the day before. Dean parked the Impala on the street, and the two brothers entered the reception room, walking past the desk and the uninterested secretary and up the stairs toward room 29. They knocked, but after two minutes, there was no answer. Dean looked at Sam and then shrugged, opening the door. The pungent smell of burning food overwhelmed them as they stepped into the apartment room. Furniture was overturned and beer bottles littered the floor. The old TV set buzzed, its screen a blur of fuzzy black and white. Sam and Dean pulled out the guns they had stowed in their jackets, Sam taking the kitchen and Dean taking the living room.

The smell grew stronger as Sam entered the kitchen. He quickly turned off the stovetop, holding his breath as he looked into the pot filled with charred beans. He circled into the living room where he found Dean. "No one here. Let's try the bedroom." They walked quickly and silently toward the small bedroom at the back of the apartment. Pushing open the door, the two brothers darted into the room, guns held out in front of them. They found Riggle on the floor, his hand clamped against his side, blood soaking his dirty shirt. His wheel chair was sitting overturned nearby.

"What happened?" Sam asked, kneeling on the floor next to the wounded man.

"I killed her!" Riggle cried out. "Heaven forgive me, I killed Daphne!" He looked at Sam with wild eyes. "She was going to leave me. She found out about Lucy, and she was going to leave me. I couldn't let anyone else have her, not Lucy, my sweet Lucy. I made sure that no one else could have her. But now I can't live with the truth any longer. I have to die like Daphne," he yelled hysterically.

Before Sam or Dean could react, the old man took a gun from behind his back, pointed it at his throat and shot. Sam fell back, his face splattered with blood. He looked up at Dean, a look of shock on his face.

…

"Well, I guess we know why the spirit is angry; she was murdered by her own husband," Dean said as they walked back to their car, Sam wiping his face off with a wet towel they had taken from Riggle's apartment.

"Yeah, the spirit was trapped in the house, so she took out her anger on the only people she could reach – the families who rented the house," Sam agreed.

"So we salt and burn the bones," Dean said, starting the engine and pulling away from the curb. "Do we know where she's buried?"

"Wood County Cemetery. It's just past town."

"There's one more thing I don't understand," Dean said, "why didn't the spirit kill Elizabeth?" He looked over at Sam.

"Did you happen to notice that Elizabeth wore a cross pendant?" Sam asked.

"No, I wasn't really looking at her necklace…."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, she was. It was really unusual. I didn't get a close look, but it looked like protective symbols on it, protection against spirits. It acted as a sort of protective charm, so the spirit couldn't touch her."

"Nothing gets past those radar eyes, huh, Sammy?"

"Look, can we quit with the whole 'Sammy's a geek' thing? It's getting old."

"What? It's the truth." Dean grinned. "It's not a bad thing, repels the chicks, but maybe you'll find a nice encyclopedia someday…."

"Funny, Dean." Sam glared at his brother.

"So, bonfire tonight at the cemetery?"

"Yeah, before someone else moves into the Riggle house."


	5. Accidents Happen in Pairs

**Accidents Happen in Pairs**

_What a dump, it will be a wonder if anyone buys this piece of crap…_ Joe Donner thought to himself as he entered the Riggle house. The crime tape had been removed, and the house was ready to be appraised. Jacob Riggle had been found dead in his retirement home earlier that day. Suicide the police said. _Damn if feels good to have something to live for,_ Joe thought sarcastically, taking out a pad of paper and looking around the dark house. A board creaked behind him, but when he turned to see if someone else had entered the house, he saw nothing. _Probably rats. Great, that will go down well with the realtors._

Finishing with the downstairs, Joe moved upstairs, cringing as the stairs creaked and groaned beneath him. He went into the first bedroom. "Ugly furniture, enough dust to cause a fatal allergic reaction…." he listed off. There was another creak behind him. This time he didn't turn around. _Old houses, _he thought, cursing them. Suddenly the air was cold, freezing cold. Joe rubbed his arms, feeling goose bumps covering the skin. As he huffed, his breath formed a foggy cloud in the air. He turned around, looking for the source of the sudden cold. He didn't have a chance to finish the appraising.

Meanwhile, Joe's partner, Mark Raymond pulled into the driveway, observing Joe's red Ford pickup. He climbed out of his car and entered the house, finding the door already unlocked. "Joe?" he called out. "Damn, it's cold in here." He looked around for an open window, but they were all shut tight. _Besides,_ he thought, _it's nearly 80 degrees outside._ He looked around the downstairs, finding nothing. The stairs creaked underfoot as he made his way up to the second floor. He entered the first bedroom. At first he didn't see Joe, then he saw a pair of boots sticking out from the side of the bed. He ventured further into the room. "Oh, God!" he yelled, tripping backwards. "Oh, God!" Joe lay on the dusty floor, eyes wide open, throat slashed and bleeding. Turning to run for help, Mark stopped short. Standing before him was an old lady. Her skin had rotted away from her face and her raggedy clothes hung off her skeletal frame. As she gazed at Mark with white eyes, her form flickered. She reached out a hand, something shiny and silver glinting in the dim light in the room. Mark yelled out, backing up as fast as he could. A knife flashed, and Mark fell to the floor.

…

"Dean, those police cars are headed toward the Riggle house," Sam said as two police cars sped past, lights flashing red and blue. "You don't think there was another death, do you?"

"Let's find out." Dean turned the car down Warut Street, parking across the street from the Riggle house, now swarming with police. An ambulance pulled up and the paramedics hopped out, rushing toward the house. "What's going on?" Dean asked the officer standing guard.

"Please step back sir, there's been an accident," the police warned, holding up his hand.

"We're agents. FBI," Dean said briskly, holding up his badge. Sam followed suit. "We're investigating the Riggle house murders."

"Alright. I don't know exactly what's happened, just that there might have been another murder. Just sit tight." Sam and Dean returned to the car, leaning against the side. Neighbors had begun to gather, watching the spectacle with worried eyes. After a few minutes, two body bags were carried out of the house.

Dean turned to Sam. "Two more deaths?"

"Looks like it." They returned to the crime scene, questioning the chief of police.

"Still here?" he grunted. "Two men murdered, Joe Donner and Mark Raymond. They were real estate appraisers. Their throats were slit. All the doors and windows were locked; we had to break down the door to get in. I don't know. I usually have good instincts with cases, but this one has me stymied," he admitted. "There's a lunatic on the loose, and he's somehow attached to that house. Never leaves any fingerprints or any signs at all. It's as if a ghost killed them." He let out a derisive laugh. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

…

"So apparently the victims just have to enter the house, not live there. This spirit is just getting more and more pissed off," Sam said as they drove away.

"Maybe there's something we're not getting here… I don't know, it's just a feeling, but something doesn't feel right." Dean stared out the windshield, deep in thought.

"You don't think Riggle murdered his wife?" Sam asked. "Dean, he confessed."

"Yeah, but he was half mad. He could have just confessed and shot himself because he missed his wife."

…

When Dean pulled into the hotel parking lot, he noticed Elizabeth sitting on the curb outside their room door. She stood to greet them as they pulled up. Dean noticed that she looked much better. Her face was less pale and the hospital wristband had been cut from her wrist.

"Hey, Elizabeth," Sam greeted.

"Hey." She smiled. "So, I wanted to be helpful," she said, jumping to the point, "so I researched the Riggle family a little. Look at this," she held up a newspaper clipping.

"It's Jacob Riggle's obituary," Sam said, reading the headline.

"Jacob Riggle had a son, did you know that?" Elizabeth asked, bouncing slightly on her heels like a child eager to impress her parents.

"No, we didn't." Sam looked impressed. "I never saw mention of a son when I researched his family."

"Well, the son was disowned at the age of 16. He was a bit of a party animal, squandering away Riggle's money. Riggle was pretty well to do since he was manager of the company he worked for. Well, anyway, it mentions his son here." She pointed to the spot in the article that she had underlined in pen.

"Jacob Riggle is survived by his only son, Jacob Riggle II," Sam read aloud.

"The guy named his son after himself?"

"It says that the Riggle fortune will pass down to the son," Sam said, scanning the rest of the article. "If there was a fortune then why the hell was he living in that dump?" he asked.

"And if the son was disowned, then why did he get all of the dough?" Dean asked.

"Maybe after Daphne died, Riggle didn't have any other family to inherit his money," Elizabeth suggested. "Maybe Jacob Riggle II murdered his own mother so that he would get the money when his father died," she said boldly. "And Riggle Senior was too scared to squander away the money. He was protecting his son even after what he did."

Sam and Dean stood quietly, contemplating the possibility. "That would make sense. Maybe it wasn't that she didn't want people to live in her house, it was that she didn't want her murdering son to one day inherit it," Sam said after a pause.

"Then Rae and all those other people died because she didn't want her son to inherit her house?" Elizabeth sunk to the pavement. Sam noticed her cross pendant.

"Where did you get that pendant?" he asked, sitting next to her.

"What? Oh…." Elizabeth touched the pendant. "I don't remember. I've just always had it."

"Do you mind if I look at it?" Sam asked. Elizabeth unclasped the pendant and dropped it into his hand. She watched curiously as Sam inspected the pendant.

"These are ancient Celtic symbols, used to repel angry spirits. That's why the spirit didn't kill you. She couldn't touch you with this kind of protection hanging around your neck." He handed the cross back to Elizabeth who stared at it with wide eyes.

"I had no idea…."

"So if the son murdered his own mother, how do we prove it?" Dean asked.

"Maybe we don't. We need to salt and burn the bones before anyone else dies," Sam replied, standing.

"You need to what?" Elizabeth asked.

"Salt and burn Daphne Riggle's bones. That should kill the spirit," Dean explained.

"Oh… Can I come?" Elizabeth asked suddenly.

"Uh, are you sure that's the kind of thing you want to do? I mean we're digging up a dead body," Dean asked, surprised.

Elizabeth smiled at Dean. "Yeah, I want to come. I want to see this end," she answered resolutely.

"Well, until then, why don't we go get some lunch?" Dean suggested. "I'm starving."

…

Elizabeth watched the two brothers curiously as they sat down at a local diner to have lunch. They looked so normal, hardly older than herself. It was easy to believe that they were just normal people like her. Yet here they were, discussing vengeful spirits. She smiled to herself. Her own world had turned upside down in just a few days. She remembered Rae's derisive laugh when she had been so afraid of the house, how she hadn't questioned why no one had lived there for years, how she had laughed off the rumors about the house's history. A sadness engulfed Elizabeth as she thought of her deceased friend. If only she had believed in ghosts…

"Are you going to order anything?" Dean asked Elizabeth as the waitress stood impatiently, tapping a pen against her pad of paper.

"Yeah, I'll have a salad and an ice tea," she said, suddenly losing her appetite.

Dean gave her a questioning look. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked.

"Fine," she lied.

"I'll take a bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries and a large coke," Dean told the waitress. Sam ordered a club sandwich.

"Coming up," the brunette waitress responded, casting an approving glance at Dean.

Elizabeth picked at her salad when it arrived, ignoring her ice tea altogether. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Dean asked. "You seem… distracted."

"It's just the son. If he did murder his mother and he gets away clean, what about all the people that have died because of what he did?" she blurted out, hitting her fist against the table.

"We're not crime fighters, we're just ghosts hunters," Dean said apologetically. "We leave the real people to the police."

"You know," Sam said, looking eagerly at Elizabeth, "the son should be coming into town soon if he did work that hard to inherit the family fortune. He's obviously putting the house up for sale, but maybe he was going to meet with the appraisers."

"So?" Dean asked. "Sam, that's not our gig. We're not really FBI agents, you know."

"Yeah, but maybe we can get him to admit he's guilty or something," Sam said hopefully.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know, Sam. Angry spirits I get; people I can't begin to understand."

"Look, forget it," Elizabeth said. "You're right." She saw Dean exchange a questioning look with Sam. "I just hope this is over soon."

…

"Are you sure you're alright?" Sam asked Elizabeth, catching up with her as they left the diner, heading toward the Impala. His greenish eyes looked almost blue today. Elizabeth smiled at the concern they held.

"I'm fine. I'm just having a hard time accepting Rae's death," she admitted. "She was my best friend."

"I know how it is to lose someone you're close to," Sam said after a pause. His eyes grew suddenly sad as he gazed off into the distance. His brow was furrowed and his lips formed a frown. "I lost my mother when I was really young. She was killed by demon. Then I lost my girlfriend, Jessica, two years ago. The same demon killed her." Sam looked at Elizabeth, his eyes watery. "The hurt and the pain seems like it could kill you at first, but you get used to it. It never really goes away, but you find ways to cope with it."

Elizabeth nodded. "Did you hunt down the demon?" she asked softly.

Sam nodded. "Not before we lost our dad, but yeah, we killed it." He smiled slightly. "I just wish you didn't have to live your life knowing about all this," he said. "It's not fair."

"I don't mind so much," Elizabeth told him. "I'm just glad I'm still alive." She smiled.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Sam replied, laughing.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dean asked, appearing suddenly.

"No," Sam and Elizabeth said in unison.

"We were just talking," Elizabeth added. "I'm really sorry about your mom and dad. You're both really strong. I don't know what I'd do if I lost my whole family…." She gazed off into space and then turned back to Sam. "Thanks," she said, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Behind her back, Dean smirked at Sam.


	6. Salt and Burn

**Salt and Burn**

The cold night air bit at Elizabeth's face as she climbed out of the Impala's backseat. Closing the door with a creak, she followed the two brothers into the cemetery. They carried shovels over their shoulders and a bag with other necessaries; Elizabeth carried a jug of kerosene. Shining a flashlight around the cemetery, they searched for Daphne Riggle's headstone. Elizabeth wandered in another direction, reading the names engraved on each headstone. She read off the names of the dead under her breath, feeling chills creep down her back. The gravel pathway crunched beneath her feet as she walked. At night, the desolate cemetery was unnerving. You could almost believe it was haunted and that every noise was made by an angry ghost. Elizabeth defiantly pushed aside her fears, moving further into the cemetery. Finally, she found the one they were searching for. Shining her light on a white marble headstone, Elizabeth saw the name: Daphne Marie Riggle. A bouquet of dried up flowers sat at the base of the headstone.

"Over here," she called to Sam and Dean. They came over to where she stood, setting down their bags. Dean raised the shovel and drove it into the hard ground, tossing the soil to the side. A quarter of an hour later, the hole had been dug, and Dean's shovel hit the solid coffin below. Elizabeth shone the light down into the hole, watching as Dean bashed in the wood of the coffin's lid. Pearly white bones were exposed. Elizabeth gave an involuntary shudder as the full skeleton was revealed. The bony mouth was open in a look of horror. Elizabeth recoiled at the sight.

After climbing out of the hole, Sam salted the body and Dean splashed kerosene over the bones. Standing above the grave, Dean lit a match and dropped it into the hole. The bones caught fire at once and began to burn, flames shooting up into the dark sky. They stood in silence, watching the bones burn into cinders. After the fire had died out, the brothers began to shovel dirt back into the hole, filling in the grave.

"So that's it?" Elizabeth asked. "The spirit is gone?"

"Yeah, she should be," Dean said, panting slightly as he patted in the last patch of dirt.

"_Should_ be?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well, we'll go make sure," Dean reassured her. "But this should have done the trick." He grabbed his shovel and threw his black leather jacket over his shoulder, heading back toward the car.

Sam walked beside Elizabeth. "What will you do now?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I suppose the police think I'm a prime suspect. I shouldn't hang around here for long. Maybe I'll go back West. My hometown is in Montana. My parents will take me back in until I get an apartment and a job. Of course, the police will probably search there for me…"

"What were you doing in Haskins anyway, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I have no idea. Rae thought it'd be fun to pick a random place on the map. I picked out Ohio, and she picked out Haskins. I never thought when her finger met with that town name that she'd be sealing her own death." Elizabeth gazed off into the night sky. "If only things could just go back to normal." She gazed up at Sam with sudden interest. "Your life must never be normal."

Sam laughed. "No, not at all."

"What will _you_ do now?" Elizabeth asked.

"Find another hunt, another thing to kill." He grimaced.

"Well, at least you have a purpose." Elizabeth gazed up at him, a look of admiration in her eyes. "You save peoples' lives."

The ride to the Riggle house was spent in silence. Everyone was worn out from the graveyard excursion. Elizabeth sat in the backseat, contemplating her conversation with Sam. She thought about her own life. Suddenly a crazy idea came into her mind. _What if I saved people too? What if I learned to hunt ghosts?_ She could imagine herself salting and burning bones. Was that morbid? She looked from Sam to Dean. Did they enjoy their life? Was it as rewarding as it seemed to save peoples' lives? She would remember to ask Sam about it. If she was on the run from the authorities, the least she could do was help other people. They pulled into the dark driveway before Elizabeth's thoughts went any further. The house looked even creepier in the dark. The closed up windows leered down on them and the roof slanted slightly as if about to collapse.

"You can stay in the car," Dean told her.

"No, I want to come in. I want to see this finished," she replied.

They walked up to the door, Dean once again picking the lock. Elizabeth couldn't help but shudder as they passed through the doorway and into the dark entrance hall. Keeping close to Sam, she followed him down the hall while Dean went upstairs.

Sam and Elizabeth ventured into the kitchen. In the darkness, they could barely make out the table and chairs in the middle of the room. "I don't see anything," Elizabeth said. Her whole body was tense as she peered into the pantry. Suddenly the front door creaked open and someone stepped into the entrance hall. Sam pushed Elizabeth behind him, readying his shotgun. He peered through the darkness into the hallway. The lights were suddenly thrown on, surprising Sam and Elizabeth.

"What the?" A gaunt man had stepped into the room. He wore a suit and loosened tie. His black hair was slicked back in a professional style. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. Sam had tucked his gun behind his back.

"Umm, we're the appraisers," Sam explained, thinking quickly.

"Rather late hour for appraising," the man said. "Well, if that's the way you want to work. I'm Jacob Riggle II." Elizabeth almost gasped. "So, are you done with your work?"

"Almost-"

"We were very sorry to hear about your father, Mr. Riggle," Elizabeth said boldly, cutting off Sam.

"Oh, yes, thank you," Jacob said distractedly.

"It must be hard losing both parents," Elizabeth consoled, carefully watching his expression.

Jacob just nodded, his face expressionless. "Well, hurry up with your appraising. I want this house sold." He sat down at the kitchen table, looking expectantly up at Sam.

"Right." He backed out of the room, Elizabeth keeping close to his elbow.

"That was close," she whispered to Sam. "What do we do now?"

"Well, the house seems clean. I'm sure if the spirit was still here it would have come out by now." They walked into the living room.

Suddenly a chill crept into the air. Elizabeth felt the hair on her arms rise as goose bumps formed along her skin. The overhead light began to flicker. "Is it cold in here?" she asked Sam. Her voice sounded dead in the room. There was a creak from behind.

"Yeah, it is." Sam sounded worried. He turned. "Dean?" he called out. No answer. Suddenly Elizabeth let out a shrill scream. From the darkness of the hall came the woman. Skeletal hands reached out, and suddenly a heavy chest flew across the room, slamming Sam against the wall. Elizabeth cried out, running over to help him. She pulled against the chest while Sam pushed, but it wouldn't budge. "Dean!" Sam yelled. "Help!"

Footsteps came down the stairs as Dean rushed to their aid. At the same time, Jacob Riggle's son rushed into the room. "No, wait!" Elizabeth called out. "Don't let her trap you too." Dean paused on the stairs. The old woman was still walking toward Elizabeth. Jacob Riggle Jr. had a strange look on his face. He stood at the edge of the room, seemingly frozen to the spot.

"Elizabeth, do you remember if there was any of Daphne's possessions here when you moved in?" Sam asked hurriedly.

"I don't know, why?" Elizabeth asked, backing away from the spirit.

"Sometimes a spirit can attach itself to an object. That enables it to survive even if the body is gone," Sam explained, pushing against the chest with all his strength.

Elizabeth thought back frantically. "The brush! There was a hairbrush on the vanity in my room. She was brushing her hair with it the night I first saw her." Dean ran back up the stairs. The spirit had moved closer now, reaching out her rotting hands. Elizabeth backed into the wall, unable to retreat any further.

"Elizabeth, are there pokers next to the fireplace?" Sam asked.

"I think so." She felt along the wall until her hand met with metal. "How will that help?"

"If they're iron, they should repel the spirit."

Elizabeth grabbed a fire poker in her shaking hand. She watched as the spirit moved closer and closer, her rotting eyeballs focused on Sam. _The charm must still be protecting me_, she thought. When the spirit had reached the chest that trapped Sam, Elizabeth drove the iron fire poker through her. The spirit vanished, and the chest dropped away from Sam. "Are you alright?" he asked her, rushing over to stand by her side. She nodded, unable to speak.

"Is she gone?" Elizabeth finally whispered.

"No. She'll be back." Sam grabbed the bag he had dropped, pulling out his shotgun. "This is loaded with rock salt," he explained. "Another spirit repellent."

They waited tensely for a second. Suddenly the spirit reappeared, slamming into Sam and knocking the gun out of his hands. "Sam!" Elizabeth cried out. She swung the iron fire poker, but the spirit disappeared before it could strike her. Suddenly the fire poker was knocked aside, and the spirit appeared above Sam, holding a long knife. Elizabeth screamed, diving for the gun. Before she could reach it, the chest tipped over, falling on one of her legs. Pinned to the floor, Elizabeth could do nothing to save Sam. As the ghost lifted the knife, ready to bring it down across Sam's throat, she suddenly stopped. Turning slowly, she looked straight at Jacob Riggle Jr. He whimpered.

"Mother?" he asked, his voice shaking. "H-how?"

The spirit walked forward, toward the man, the knife held high. She had a skeletal finger pointed accusingly at her son. Riggle stood on the spot, unable to move, whimpering in fear. Sam tried to get up, but the spirit kept him restrained with some power. There was a slash and a scream, and Jacob Riggle Jr. fell to the floor. The spirit turned back to Sam, but suddenly started to smolder, burning up until she was no more. Finally yanking herself free of the chest, Elizabeth crawled across the floor to where Sam lay.

"Are you alright?" she asked. There was a gash above his brow, but he seemed unhurt otherwise.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he panted, standing up. He put an arm around Elizabeth's waist, helping her up. Pain shot through her ankle as she stood. "Are you okay?" Sam asked her as she winced.

"When the chest fell on me, I think I twisted my ankle," she replied, leaning her weight on Sam. Sam kept his arm around her, his face showing his concern.

Just then, Dean came running down the stairs. "Dude, what took you so long?" Sam asked.

"Have you ever tried burning a silver hairbrush before?" he asked. "Are you alright, Sammy?"

"Fine."

"You too?" he asked, turning to Elizabeth.

"Yeah. Is she really gone now?"

The brothers both nodded. "Yeah," they said in unison. Dean walked over to Riggle's body, grimacing slightly.

"Well, that's taken care of," he said. "Now let's get out of here before the cops come. Wipe your prints off of anything you touched." Sam helped him wipe down everything they had touched, especially the fire poker that Elizabeth had brandished.

Sam helped Elizabeth to the car, walking slowly and supporting her weight. "We'll get you some ice for that when we get back to the motel," he told her.

"Thanks," Elizabeth said, smiling up at him as he helped her into the backseat. As Dean backed the Impala out of the driveway, she gazed out the window into the darkness, watching the stars twinkling above her. She felt as if a heavy weight had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders. She could leave this town behind for good.


	7. Goodbyes

**Goodbyes**

_June 27, 2007_

When Elizabeth opened her eyes, the first thing she thought about was the night before. She sat up, closing her eyes as images filled her mind. There was a knock at her door, interrupting her thoughts. Elizabeth stood slowly, hobbling to the door and opening it. Sam stood there.

"Come in," Elizabeth offered, holding the door open wide.

"Thanks." Sam came in and stood awkwardly. He seemed nervous to Elizabeth. She closed the door and self-consciously smoothed out her jacket. Too exhausted to change the night before, she still wore the same clothes as yesterday.

"Are you heading out?" she asked.

"Yeah, we figure it's best if we leave town. Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Montana; at least for a while. Then I might travel." She looked up at Sam. "What do you think about being a hunter?" she questioned. "I know it's got to be tough, but you're saving people's lives."

"Wait, you're not thinking-"

"That I might become a hunter," Elizabeth finished his thoughts.

"No, Elizabeth, you can't just become a hunter. You don't want that life, believe me." He shook his head. "Do you really want to live your life on the run, living in cheap motels, your life at risk all the time?"

Elizabeth frowned. "Then you're unhappy being a hunter?"

"Look, I grew up into this life. It was my dad's obsession after my mom died. I left once and went off to college at Stanford. I was going to become a lawyer, but I ended up hunting again after Jessica died. It's not a fun life. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt."

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked, cocking her head to the side.

Sam smiled. "What do you mean? I don't like seeing anyone hurt." He looked down at Elizabeth, as if trying to picture her as a hunter. He shook his head.

"Hang on, I want to say goodbye to Dean to. I'll be packed in a minute."

Sam leaned against the Impala as Dean packed away their bags. He shut the trunk and then joined Sam. "What do you think is going to happen to her?" Sam asked Dean.

"I don't know. She'll probably go home and live a fairly normal life," Dean said, looking at his brother curiously. "You like her, don't you?"

"She said she was thinking about becoming a hunter." Sam ignored the question.

"Hmm. I could picture her kicking a demon's ass," Dean said, looking off into space.

"Dude, it's a dangerous job. She can't just leave everything behind and become a hunter," Sam retorted.

"You just don't want her to get hurt." Dean looked at Sam, knowing that he'd hit the truth. Sam looked at his feet. "Dude, seriously, you may never see her again. Are you just going to wave her a goodbye?" When Sam didn't answer he rolled his eyes.

Elizabeth's hotel door opened, and she appeared, carrying a single bag over her shoulder. Dean nudged Sam before turning to Elizabeth. "Take care of yourself," he said to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth smiled at him. "You too." She pulled him into a quick hug. "Thanks," she added when she pulled away. Dean smiled before going to sit in the Impala. Turning to Sam, Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes bright. "This has been quite the exciting few days," she said.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"Thanks for everything," Elizabeth told him. She hesitated. "I'll see you around?" she asked when he didn't say anything more.

"Yeah, I'll see you," he said. She smiled at him before wrapping her arms around him. He breathed into her hair, wishing he didn't have to leave her behind, not knowing what would happen to her. When she pulled away, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good luck, Sam," she said before turning and walking away.

Dean gave Sam a disappointed look when he climbed into the Impala, slamming the door behind him. "Just leave it," Sam muttered. Dean shrugged. He turned the keys in the ignition, starting the engine of the Impala with a healthy roar that settled into a satisfying purr. Pushing the gear into drive, he pulled out of the hotel parking lot, watching Elizabeth grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

"She'll be fine," he assured Sam. Sam didn't reply. Instead he looked out the window, a sorrowful look on his face. Dean sighed, turning on some music. He turned onto the highway and sped off, away from Haskins.

…

As the bus finally slowed to a stop, Elizabeth jumped down onto the familiar sidewalk of her hometown. Missoula seemed suddenly like Heaven to her. Elizabeth smiled, walking down the street toward a local mechanic shop. "Hey, Dave!" she greeted.

"Elizabeth! Long time no see." The middle-aged man gave her a one armed hug. "How's life?"

"Great now that I'm home. Is Dad in?" she asked.

Dave frowned. "No, he hasn't been in for a few days. I thought maybe he'd gone to visit you. We heard about your roommate," he replied.

"He didn't come down to visit me." Elizabeth felt a sudden inexplicable dread growing within her. Dave looked worried. "Look, I'm going home right now. I'll see what's up and call you, alright?" she asked. "Can I borrow a car?"

"Sure. I just hope everything's alright," Dave replied.

Elizabeth left the garage with a sickening feeling in her stomach. She hurried to the parking lot behind the garage, seeking out the Dodge whose keys Dave had provided her with. The old maroon car was sitting at the edge of the lot, its maroon paint in need of a touchup. She hopped in, revving the engine and pulling out of the lot. Her house was at the edge of the city in a little populated stretch of country. Elizabeth pulled into the dirt drive that wound up to her house. The tall white form of her house came into view. A wrap around porch with a set of antique chairs also came into view as Elizabeth parked the car. She ran up the steps, trying the door. It was locked. Pulling out a key with trembling fingers, Elizabeth entered the quiet house, calling out for her parents. "Mom? Dad? Are you home?" She stepped into the living room, but no one was there. The dining room was also empty. Elizabeth entered the kitchen and felt her heart skip a beat. Her parents lay on the floor, faces pale and lifeless. A pair of people sat at her kitchen table, a bloody knife lying on the table between them.

Their eyes were black, the dark color filling the entire oval shape of the eye. The woman smiled. "We've been waiting for you."

….

To Be Continued…

Part Two:

Fallen Angel

* * *

_Author Note: Thank you so much for reading! I'm glad that I decided to repost this. I kind of got out of Supernatural for awhile - like at the beginning of season 5, but then, recently, I started watching them again on Netflix and got hooked again. Anyway, I'm currently rewriting the second one. I had it finished back in 2009, but I wanted to change a rather major part of the plot, so it might be a little while. I didn't even remember that I'd written a second one, but it's like 50 pages long. Go figure._


	8. Ghost Hunt

**Part Two**

**Fallen Angel**

**Ghost Hunt**

_Moscow, Idaho_

_July 3, 2007_

The dark hallway of the abandoned school held a tense air to it. Two figures crept down the tiled floor, guns and flashlights held before them. Something up ahead creaked, and the two men were alert at once. They stealthily approached the door that had creaked. One nodded to the other and then flung open the door. They entered the room quickly; guns ready to shoot at any sign of movement. The classroom was empty. They headed back into the hall, walking silently to the end toward the last room. From within they heard whimpering and scratching. Signaling to each other, they flung the door open and ran in. There was a shot and a spirit vanished before them, repelled by the salt-shot. The taller of the men strode quickly over to a teenage girl who sat trembling in a corner. Her shirt was bloodstained, but she appeared to be unharmed besides a few minor scratches.

"We're here to help you. Can you walk?" The girl nodded, allowing the man to help her to her feet. She took a shaky step forward and then screamed, pointing ahead of her. The other man turned, but the spirit came at him, knocking his gun aside and sending the man flying into a desk. There was a moan from the floor. The girl screamed again. The taller man held his gun up, scanning the room for signs of the spirit. He felt a sudden chill creep up his spine and, turning, he saw the spirit. He shot quickly, hitting the spirit through the heart.

"Quick, we need to find the body!" he called out to his companion, taking the girl's arm and leading her out of the room.

"I'll go, you get her out of here!" the other man collected himself, rubbing his bruised arm. While the other helped the girl out of the building, he ran toward the basement stairs, taking two steps at once. Leaping to the concrete floor, he began a thorough search of the school basement. A set of lockers stood in the corner. Their green paint was peeling and the metal had begun to rust. Coming up closer, the man noticed a wisp of hair sticking out from the door of one of the lockers. He tried the door only to find it locked. Pulling out his crowbar, he pried the locker open.

"Ah, gross!" he cried out as a body fell from the inside of the locker and onto the floor. The rotting corpse carried a rancid odor, and he held his mouth for a second, trying not to vomit. Pulling out salt, he scattered it over the body and then began to spurt oil across the corpse as well. As he breathed out, he noticed that his breath condensed into vapor in the suddenly cold air. "Damnit." He fumbled with his lighter, flicking the lever on it. Before the flame appeared, he felt something ice cold grasp him. He was flung across the room, landing hard on the concrete floor. Dazed, he struggled to his feet. Facing him was the spirit. It moved forward, arms outstretched. The man dove for the lighter, but it lay out of reach. He felt something pulling him backward. Suddenly someone ran down the stairs, grabbing the lighter and igniting the body. As the corpse burned into ashes, the spirit cried out, bursting into flames and finally disappearing.

Breathing hard, the man got to his feet, looking over at his companion. "What took you so long?" he asked.

The other gave him an annoyed look. "Since when has a little spirit stopped you, Dean?"

"Come on, Sammy, let's get out of here," Dean said, grabbing his gun from the floor.

The Impala roared to life, speeding out of the school parking lot and down the road. The two passengers sat in silence, one staring at the road ahead, the other staring out the side window, brooding.

"Alright, let me hear it," Dean finally broke the silence, glancing at his brother.

"It's been two weeks since we last saw her. I've tried calling her for the last week, but she won't answer. I think she's in trouble," Sam replied. Dean could hear the frustration in his voice.

"How do we know that she hasn't just forgotten us? Maybe she got caught up in her life and didn't want to remember what happened," Dean suggested. "I just think you're letting your feelings cloud your judgment."

"She wouldn't just forget us."

"Come on, Sam, it's not the first time you've been ditched by a girl."

"That's not what I mean. I just have this… _feeling-_"

"Ah, Sammy's got feelings for a girl."

"This feeling that she's in trouble," Sam finished, glaring at his brother. "Wouldn't you go help Cassie if she were in trouble?" he asked.

Dean hesitated. "Well, yeah, but this is different."

"Why? Because we've only known her a few weeks? How is that different?" Sam shook his head.

"Listen, if it will make you happy, we'll go check on her," Dean gave in. "I'm telling you though, Elizabeth has just moved on." Sam didn't reply. He gazed out the window, hardly seeing the scenery that passed by. The feeling he had told him that she was in great danger. He didn't know how he knew. He just did.

"How long of a drive?" he asked.

"About five hours if I drive fast," Dean replied. He pushed his foot down on the accelerator as he reached Highway 95, pushing the Impala to go faster. Deep inside he agreed with Sam. He knew Elizabeth would have called as soon as she got home. He didn't want to see her hurt, but he knew that if they found her dead, Sam would be the one hurt. He didn't want that to happen again.

…

She didn't know how long they had driven. She just knew that her parents were dead. She was alone. _Elizabeth entered the kitchen and felt her heart skip a beat. Her parents lay on the floor, faces pale and lifeless. Blood stained the floor in great puddles and the white refrigerator was sprayed with the same red blood. _

She kept replaying that moment in her head over and over like a silent movie that just kept repeating the same scene. Every time she fell asleep, she woke up screaming. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw blood.

Thinking back to that day, she felt horror running through her veins.

_Elizabeth pulled into the dirt drive that wound up to her house. The tall white form of her house came into view. A wrap around porch with a set of antique chairs also came into view as Elizabeth parked the car. She ran up the steps, trying the door. It was locked. Pulling out a key with trembling fingers, Elizabeth entered the quiet house, calling out for her parents. "Mom? Dad? Are you home?" She stepped into the living room, but no one was there. The dining room was also empty. Elizabeth entered the kitchen and felt her heart skip a beat. Her parents lay on the floor, faces pale and lifeless. A pair of people sat at her kitchen table, a bloody knife lying on the table between them._

_Their eyes were black, the dark color filling the entire oval shape of the eye. The woman smiled. "We've been waiting for you."_

Elizabeth screamed, backing away in horror. The woman leapt up from her chair, grabbing Elizabeth's arm and tugging her forward so that she fell to her knees. Elizabeth closed her eyes, tears pouring down her cheeks. She kept thinking that this was only a nightmare, but the woman's voice cut through her thoughts.

"_So, Elizabeth. You're finally here. We've been waiting here all this time for you. Your parents are starting to smell." Elizabeth raised her head to glare at the woman. _

"_Who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking with emotion. She should have felt fear, perhaps, but all she felt was a blind fury amidst the burning pain. _

"_That doesn't matter." The woman sat down, looking over at the man._

"_You're who matters, Elizabeth," the man said, looking down at her. _

"_Why?" Elizabeth sobbed. "Why did you do this?" _

"_Because, they weren't worth anything to us, and I wanted to have a little fun." The woman laughed, fingering the handle of the bloody knife. _

"_What are you?" Elizabeth reworded her former question. "No human would kill two innocent people for fun." _

"_You look too kindly upon your own kind. Humans are just like animals," the man replied. _

"_They'll come looking for me," Elizabeth whispered, not knowing who would. _

"_Who? Your friend at the garage? Oh, he won't be any trouble." The woman smirked, and Elizabeth felt sick. The smell of blood was beginning to overwhelm her. _

"_Anyway, now that we have you, no one else has to die. As long as they don't interfere." _

"_What do you want with me?" _

"_Let's just say, you're very _valuable_ to us," the woman answered evasively. _

_Elizabeth gritted her teeth, willing herself not to be sick. She got unsteadily to her feet. "And what if I don't come with you?" she asked. _

"_Then we kill you." _

"_You've already taken away everything from me." Elizabeth opened her arms wide, looking the woman straight in the eye. "Go ahead."_

_The woman smirked again, and the man laughed. "Brave one, isn't she?" _

"_Well, let's just say you'll come with us no matter what." _

_The man and woman stood, each grabbing one of Elizabeth's arms. They dragged her out of the house. Elizabeth kicked at them, screaming at the top of her lungs. She took a backward glance, but tears blinded her. They dragged her out to her car, snatching her keys and unlocking the trunk. With a thrust, they unbalanced Elizabeth, and she toppled into the trunk. The trunk slammed shut, and Elizabeth was thrown into darkness. She felt the car start and then back out of the driveway. Elizabeth screamed, but she knew no one could hear her. She knew no one would save her. She finally stopped screaming and sat in silence, wishing she were dead. _


	9. Missing

**Missing**

_Missoula, Montana_

_July 4, 2007_

"Agent Denver and Agent Clark. We're looking for an Elizabeth Martin. Do you know where we can find her?" Sam and Dean held out their fake badges to the shopkeeper at the local grocery store.

"Yeah, isn't her father the mechanic? Larry Martin? They do their shopping here, yeah. But I don't know where they live. Why don't you ask Dave over at Dave's Mechanics? He was Larry's partner. Just down the street." He pointed.

"Thank you."

Crossing the street, Sam and Dean found the mechanic shop, entering the garage and looking around for Dave. Dean inhaled the scent of oil and rubber, thinking back to his dad's mechanic shop – before he had become a hunter. "Are you the Dave of Dave's Mechanics?" Dean asked as a middle-aged man strode into the garage from a side office.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Agent Denver and Agent Clark. We're looking for Elizabeth Martin. I hear you know her."

"Yeah, I know her. Good girl. I work with her father, Larry Martin." Dave looked worried. "She's not in any trouble is she? She'd never break any laws-"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Dean assured him. "We're just looking into her friend's murder, and we needed to ask her a few questions."

"Oh, yeah, awful business. I hope you catch the guy."

"We believe we're getting close. Anyway, if you could just give us the Martin's address…."

"Sure." He grabbed a scrap of paper and jotted down the address. "I hope everything's okay. Elizabeth came back a couple days ago. She seemed really worried about her family. I hadn't seen Larry in a few days. I figured he'd gone down to visit her what with the murder and all, but she said no, he hadn't been there. Said she'd call me when she got home, but she never did. Larry hasn't come in to work yet. I'm real worried. No one answers the phone. I would go out there, but I'm just busted here without help. Larry isn't one to flake out on work. I hope he's okay."

"Well, we'll let you know." Sam took the scrap of paper with the address.

"Just drive out of town and turn right at the third driveway," Dave instructed.

"Thanks for your help."

The two brothers left the garage, heading toward where the Impala was parked. "See, she's missing, Dean," Sam said as soon as they pulled away from the street. "I knew something was wrong."

"Yeah, it looks that way." Dean headed out of town, his apprehension growing as they neared the Martin's house.

"Third drive, that's it."

Dean pulled into the dirt driveway, heading slowly up to the house. "It's far back. Anything could have happened without anyone noticing."

Sam jumped out of the car before Dean even stopped, running up the steps and ringing the doorbell. Dean approached, surveying the yard. He noted the newspaper build up near the porch. Nudging Sam's arm, he pointed the papers out. Sam exchanged a look with him and then tried the door. It was unlocked. Sam pushed open the door, pulling out his gun and stepping noiselessly into the house. Dean followed suit, looking around outside before closing the door behind them. The hardwood floor beneath their feet creaked slightly as they stepped further into the house. Dean motioned for Sam to go right while he went left.

Entering the living room, Sam noted a plate with a half eaten sandwich. As he stepped cautiously forward, he smelled a whiff of rotting meat. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he noted the moldy bread and the flies buzzing around the rotting sandwich. A half a cup of coffee sat next to it. _This can't be good_, he thought to himself, worry gnawing at him. He approached the window, looking for signs of sulfur. The sills were clean though slightly dusty.

Dean entered the dining room, holding his gun out before him. The room was orderly, all the chairs pushed in, nothing out of place. A buzzing sound came from the next room. He stepped forward, walking silently across the room in three steps. The door to the next room was slightly ajar and a rancid smell was coming from behind it. He jumped slightly as Sam appeared at his shoulder.

"Some rotting food in the living room," Sam told him quietly. "The rest of the downstairs is clean."

"Be ready," Dean told him as the pushed the door open. They stepped quickly into the kitchen. Dean observed a small radio buzzing in the corner as it tried to pick up a station. The smell was nearly overwhelming as he neared the kitchen table. "Oh," he exclaimed, peering around the table. He held a hand over his mouth and nose. Sam moved closer, his hand also held over his nose. "That's just…." Dean peered down at the two dead bodies. "Elizabeth's parents?" he asked Sam.

Sam looked around. "Where's Elizabeth?" he asked, panic edging his voice.

"Maybe she saw the bodies and left," Dean suggested. "It's enough to drive someone away."

"She would have called us," Sam insisted. "And she would have made arrangements for them, not just left them there." Silently, Dean agreed.

"Okay, you check the upstairs, I'll finish looking around here." He approached the kitchen window, spotting a powdery substance. "Sulfur," he muttered, running his fingers through the powder. He gazed around the room, but nothing else caught his eyes. He skirted the bodies and the thick pools of blood. Meeting Sam at the base of the stairs, he saw a pained look on his brother's face.

"She's not here," Sam said.

"She could still be alive," Dean replied hopefully. "Maybe whoever killed her parents took her. I found sulfur in the kitchen."

"Demons?"

"Possibly." Dean sighed.

"We have to find her, Dean," Sam said fiercely.

"We have no idea where to start searching though. The demons won't have left a bread trail leading us straight to her. We'll see what we can do," he added. "Alright, let's find a hotel in the meantime." Dean pulled out his cell phone, dialing 911. "Yes, I'd like to report two bodies." He gave the address. "My name? It's-" He hung up before answering, shoving his phone back into his jacket pocket. "Alright, let's wipe our prints and go."

Ten minutes later they checked into the Sky Hotel, booking a double room for the night.

Sam sat down on one of the beds, pulling his computer out of his bag. "In the last two weeks there have been signs of demons here," he told Dean. "Electrical storms, a few cattle mutilations. Not enough to really hit the big news, but a demon certainly passed through here."

"It's not like demons to leave a person alive, but I think if Elizabeth were dead she would have been lying on the floor with her parents," Dean replied. "Maybe she had something they wanted."

"Like what?" Sam questioned.

"I'm still working on that." Dean sat down on the other bed, lying back and closing his eyes. He didn't see why the demons would have killed Elizabeth's parents in the first place. As far as he knew, they were just a normal family. _Then again_, he thought_, when do demons ever make sense?_

Dean's thoughts were interrupted when there was a knock on the hotel door. He glanced up suspiciously.

"Who could that be?" Sam asked. He shut his computer screen and set it aside, tucking a gun into his jacket.

Dean moved toward the door, another gun stowed in his pocket. He peered through the peephole in the door. The distorted face of Dave the mechanic came into view. He turned back to Sam, mouthing the mechanic's name. Sam furrowed his brow.

"What would he want?" he asked. "How did he even know we're here?" He stood, grabbing a small silver flask filled with holy water.

Dean opened the door a crack. "Dave, what brings you here?" he asked.

"I couldn't help but notice you pulling in here on my way home. I just wanted to make sure the Martins are all right. Can I come in?" Dean pulled the door open wider, allowing the man to enter the room. "FBI can't provide you with a better hotel?" he asked, glancing around the room at the bright blue walls covered in white clouds.

Dean glanced at Sam wondering how much he should tell the man. "Did you notice anything suspicious in the last few weeks?" he asked. "Anyone new in town?"

Dave threw him a confused look. "It's a big town. I can't keep track of every newcomer. Although there was a couple who stopped in just about the time Larry stopped coming into work. They were having some car troubles. I'd never seen them in town before. Said they were just passing through. But what does that have to do with Larry?"

"Larry Martin and his wife are dead. Their daughter is missing."

Dave looked shock, his mouth hanging open. "Dead?"

"Murdered, we believe," Dean added, carefully watching the man's expression.

"Murdered? Who'd want to murder a nice couple like them?" Dave sat down at the small table near the window. "Although," he spoke in a strangely calm voice, "they had it coming." He turned to look at Sam and Dean, black pupils filling the whole of his eyes.


	10. Devil's Trap

**Devil's Trap**

_Unknown Location_

July 1, 2007

Elizabeth blinked madly as the car trunk was raised. The sun beat on her, assaulting her eyes and temporarily blinding her. Before she knew what was happening, she was being dragged out of the trunk and into an old warehouse. She looked around at the landscape before she was forced inside. They were in the middle of nowhere. Elizabeth was shoved into the warehouse, the two captors holding both her arms.

"Now then, we'll just have you sit here." The woman pushed Elizabeth into a wobbly chair, chaining her arms down. "Don't move."

Elizabeth glared at the man and woman but was too tired to speak. She moved her arms feebly, but the chains tightly constrained her. The warehouse appeared to be abandoned. Loose timbers had fallen to the concrete floor and some of the small windows bore signs of abuse, their glass shattered and jagged. A small bird rustled its wings from a beam up above them.

"Where are we?" Elizabeth asked weakly, her throat parched.

"Like we'd tell you," the woman answered.

"I don't understand what you want with me." The woman smirked but didn't reply.

"Then you really don't know why we brought you here?" the man replied, leering down at Elizabeth.

"Don't speak, you know we have orders to keep quiet," the woman reprimanded him.

"Your eyes. What are you?" Elizabeth tried again. "You're not human," she pressed.

"Didn't the Winchester boys teach you anything?" The woman leaned closer. "Didn't they warn you about what else is out there in the dark? Angry spirits are the least of your worries."

Elizabeth felt a surge of panic. "You know about Sam and Dean?" she asked.

"Who hasn't heard of the Winchesters? Their daddy gave us quite a bit of trouble back when he was still alive. Now his boys have taken up the torch. If they even try to find you we'll gut them before they have a chance to see you."

Elizabeth glared at the woman. "You monster!" she spat.

"John Winchester killed my family. Who's the monster?"

"You killed my parents, you worthless-"

"Oh, yes, that's right. I'd forgotten. I lose track of all those breakable humans I've killed. Your parents were particularly fun to kill. They screamed a lot."

Elizabeth felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She struggled against the chains, but to no avail. The woman laughed at her attempts. "You bitch!" she screamed, kicking out at the woman.

With inhuman speed, the woman reached out a hand, clamping Elizabeth's face in her grasp. "I'd watch what you say. Just because I have orders not to harm you doesn't mean _he_ won't gut you when he gets here."

"When who gets here?" Elizabeth asked defiantly, pushing away the fear that gnawed at her, threatening to overwhelm her.

"Someone a lot more fun than us. You see, he likes to see people's insides on their outside. It's a specialty of his. He likes to do it real slow. He likes to hear people scream."

Elizabeth shuddered, feeling panic rise up in her throat. She felt suddenly sick and light-headed.

"I'm getting tired of all your questions," the woman said to her, raising a fist. With a quick movement, she hit Elizabeth's head, knocking her out.

…

"You're a demon," Sam accused as Dave blinked his eyes back to normal.

"Good guess, what gave you that idea?" The demon stood up, striding toward the brothers.

"Where's Elizabeth?" Sam asked angrily.

"She's long gone, about to be gutted."

"What do you want with her?"

"Like I'd tell you." The demon smirked. "You won't live long enough to see her again."

Sam and Dean backed toward the wall as the demon strode toward them. Suddenly he stopped as if hitting an invisible wall. He looked down at the small, circular rug that he stood on.

"Devil's Trap," Dean informed him, throwing back a corner of the rug to reveal the trap. "You don't think we were _that_ unprepared. Now tell us, where is the girl?" He took the flask of holy water, splashing it on the demon when he didn't reply.

The demon let out a cry as the holy water hit him. Smoke issued from Dave's body as the holy water took its effects on the demon inside. "You'll have to do better than that," he hissed at them, grimacing in pain.

"Fine." Dean took his dad's journal from his bag, flipping the pages until he found the right demon exorcism. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica…" The demon let out a cry of agony.

"Is she alive?" Dean asked, pausing in the exorcism. The demon remained stubbornly silent. Dean continued on with the exorcism. "Ergo draco maledicte et sectio-"

"Yes, yes, she's alive," the demon cried out. "But not for long."

"Why do the demons want her?" Sam asked, glaring down at the demon. The creature smirked, staying silent.

"Why do the demons want her? Last chance," Dean repeated. "Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica."

"I…don't…know… They didn't tell me."

"You're lying," Sam accused.

"No, not lying," the demon panted.

"Then where is she?" The demon remained silent, glaring up at Sam. Dean began the exorcism again.

"Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias-"

"Rapid City, South Dakota!" the demon cried out. "Stop, stop…" it pleaded weakly.

Dean hesitated and then asked, "Who's behind all this?"

"I've told you all I know. I swear… Please…"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, but you're going back to hell. Servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos." With a scream, the demon poured from Dave's mouth, spiraling downward through the floor.

Dean shut the journal, setting it aside. When the last of the black smoke had left the mechanic, the body slumped forward, blood dripping from the man's mouth. "He didn't make it."

"He's probably been dead for weeks." Sam looked excited. "We know where she is. Dean, we have to go."

"In the morning. You know we're too tired to be any help to her right now." Sam grudgingly agreed.

"Dean, she could be dead by then."

"They want something from her. They're not going to kill her just yet."

"Fine, but we're getting up early," Sam insisted. Dean sighed. "Why would the demons want her?" Sam asked, furrowing his brow.

"I don't know. Maybe she knows something?" Dean suggested.

"But what? Wouldn't she have told us?"

"True. Listen, we should get rid of this body. I don't want it stinking up the room," Dean said, motioning for Sam to help him lift the body.

"Where are we dumping this one?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. The corpse was already starting to smell.

"Alleyway?" Dean suggested.

Together they struggled to heave the body out of the room and into the alley, watching carefully to make sure they weren't seen. After they had left the body, Sam and Dean returned quickly to the hotel room.

"Just in case." Dean grabbed a package of salt from his bag, spreading a thin layer below the door and on the windowsills. "No demons getting in here tonight."


	11. Angels and Demons

**Angels and Demons**

_Rapid City, South Dakota_

_July 5, 2007_

The Impala roared down the highway, Dean pressing the car for speed as they entered South Dakota. Sam kept glancing out the window as if Elizabeth was going to just appear out of nowhere. Dean cast a worried glance in his direction. "We're getting there as fast as we can," he told Sam.

His brother turned his gaze from the window. "I know. It's just; we should have known she might be in danger. It seems like everyone we get close to ends up getting hurt."

"That's not true," Dean replied. Sam kept silent. His thoughts kept flashing back to Jessica and Madison. He couldn't let another girl get hurt. Not again. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the seat. The miles flew past and they neared their destination.

Dean turned up the music, hoping to break the tense atmosphere in the car, but Sam stayed silent, his face giving away how worried he was. Dean turned his focus on the road, taking a right at the exit to Rapid City "So where do you think demons would take her?" he asked Sam.

"Probably somewhere toward the edge of the town." Sam pulled out a map and scanned it. "Here." He pointed to an abandoned warehouse just outside of the city. "If I were a demon, I'd take her here."

Dean nodded in agreement, turning off the road and onto a dirt path that led up to an expansive building. He parked a few yards away, behind a large dumpster, staring up at the edifice with unease. "Yeah, this looks like a demon hangout," he muttered, climbing out of the car. He unlocked the trunk, and they pulled out two guns, loading them with salt shots. Sam grabbed a bottle of holy water and a container of salt. Dean shut the trunk, and they strode forward.

"I'm guessing they probably know we're here, but in case they don't, lets take a back entrance," Dean suggested.

Sam nodded, and they crept forward, dashing behind a row of empty barrels as a door slammed shut. They saw a man walk outside, scanning the span of land before him. Seeing nothing, he returned inside the building. Dean motioned to Sam, and they continued on, keeping their eyes peeled for a possible entrance. Sam tugged on Dean's coat, motioning toward a broken window. The glass had been completely broken away, leaving a large enough gap for Sam and Dean to fit through. As they entered the warehouse, they looked around, scanning the expansive space for Elizabeth. The room was empty. Moving noiselessly through the room, they entered a dark hallway that led into a smaller extension of the warehouse. Chains hung from the ceiling, rattling as a soft breeze blew through the gaping windows. As they entered the next room, Sam noticed Elizabeth at once. She was tied to a chair in the center of the room. Her head lolled to the side as if she were unconscious. He almost rushed forward, but Dean grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Motioning for Sam to wait, Dean led him around the edge of the room, keeping hidden behind large crates. No demons were anywhere to be seen.

"Salt," Dean mouthed to Sam. Sam handed over the container of salt and Dean crept out from behind the crate. He carefully blocked off all the entrances. Sam followed him out, rushing over to Elizabeth. He touched his fingers to her neck to feel for a pulse. After a tense few seconds, he felt a steady heartbeat beneath her skin. Letting out a sigh of relief, Sam turned to Dean.

"She's alive." Turning back to Elizabeth, he noticed a series of bruises that were scattered over her arms and face. Her lip was cut open, and dried blood ran down her chin.

"Well, well, well, looks like our little trap worked." Sam and Dean started as a voice came from the rafters above. A tall ladder led up to a series of metal ramps overhead.

"Dammit." Dean hurried to salt the bottom of the ladder, but the demon flicked her fingers and the salt went flying from his hands, scattering all over the warehouse floor. The demon strode down the stairs, followed by another.

"Looks like we caught the Winchester boys," the female demon said in a silky voice. With another flick of her hand, both Sam and Dean flew against the other wall, unable to move. "Just in time to watch the show."

"We're expecting a visitor," the other demon added, smiling.

"Oh, fantastic," Dean replied, grimacing as he fought against the demon's constraining force.

"Dean Winchester," the woman said, striding forward. "Back from Hell."

"That's me."

The demon glared. "What makes you so special?" She took a step back. "Never mind. You'll soon be back down there, screaming."

Sam glared at her. "What do you want with Elizabeth?" he asked.

"Oh, she's got something we want," the demon replied, smirking. She leaned over Elizabeth's limp form. "Some information about a certain object."

"She doesn't know anything," Sam growled.

"Yes, she does. She'll spit it out one way or another." As she spoke, the building began to shake, the lights above swinging madly. "Here he is."

The doors of the warehouse creaked open, the salt blowing away from the entrance as a sudden wind picked up. A tall man walked into the warehouse, his black coat blowing forward with the rush of the wind. Black eyes scanned the room, his thin lips forming a smile as he surveyed the scene before him.

The woman demon stepped forward, kneeling down. The man stayed back, standing where he was. "We brought you the Winchester boys and the girl."

The demon's eyes flashed to Sam and Dean, but then his gaze went intently to Elizabeth. "Good," he answered. Sam and Dean fought against their constraints but to no avail. The demon stepped forward, locking his fingers around Elizabeth's chin; he shook her until she came to. Her eyes flashed with defiance, and she spat out blood onto the demon's shoes. He didn't seem to care. "Let's get straight to the point," he said, pulling Elizabeth's head up so that she was forced to look into his eyes. "You know something, and you're going to tell us."

"I don't know anything," Elizabeth replied.

The demon lifted a hand and slapped her face. An ugly red mark appeared on Elizabeth's cheek. "No!" Sam cried out. Elizabeth's gaze shifted to where Sam and Dean were trapped.

"Sam," she whispered. Her eyes widened.

"Now, tell us!" the demon commanded.

"Tell you what?" Elizabeth shouted. "I don't know _anything_. I don't know why I'm here or why you think I know something because _I don't_! All I know is you murdered my parents!"

With a sudden movement, the demon pressed his fingers to Elizabeth's temples. With a shriek, Elizabeth writhed in pain. She was vaguely aware of Sam yelling in the background. All she could feel was pain, but what she could see was different. Suddenly her mind was flooded with memories she couldn't understand. She remembered overhearing something. She remembered someone being angry with her. And she remembered pain beyond pain, a flash of bright light, and an empty abyss that opened up below her feet.

The demon released his fingers, and Elizabeth fell limp. She struggled to stay conscious, overwhelmed by the thoughts that swirled in her head. What had she seen? An argument. A betrayal. But how did she figure into all this?

"Now, I'll ask once more, what do you remember?" The demon thought she knew something, but amid all the memories, nothing had made any sense.

"I don't know," she spat.

"I tried the easy way, now I'll try the hard way. This way involves a lot of pain."

"Just kill me."

As the demon raised his hands, the lights of the warehouse sparked violently and the roof began to tremble. A flash of light filled the room, and the humans covered their eyes. The demons let out shrieks. As the light died, a man stepped forward quickly, pressing his hand to the male demon's face and killing it. The female rushed forward, kicking toward the man, but he was too quick, sending the demon to the same fate. Light filled her eyes and mouth, and she screamed. All that was left was the demon leaning over Elizabeth. Dean snatched up the knife he kept with him, stabbing it through the demon's heart before he could make a move. A light flashed through his being, and the body fell lifelessly to the ground.

Sam rushed to untie Elizabeth, pulling her up and supporting her as her legs gave way. Dean turned to survey the new arrival. "What's going on, Cas?" he asked.

The man stepped forward, his eyes intent on Elizabeth. "She is to be protected," he said, glancing at Dean.

"Well, great, you couldn't have shown up before we were all nearly murdered by demons?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"We didn't know until we overheard the demons' plans for her," the man replied, giving Dean an impatient look.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes wide with fear as she surveyed the man. "What did you do to those...?"

"Demons," the man replied. "I am Castiel."

"An angel," Dean added.

Elizabeth's eyes widened more. "An _angel_?" she asked, her tone disbelieving. "Where were you when my parents died then? Aren't you supposed to protect us?"

Castiel's blue eyes turned cold. "It's not our job to babysit humans," he said. Elizabeth didn't back down at his tone, but stared stonily back at him.

"So why did they want Elizabeth?" Sam asked Castiel, cutting in.

The angel turned his blue gaze to Sam. "She does have something they want. Some information about a certain object. In the wrong hands, it could do great harm." He turned back to Elizabeth. "Do you remember?" he asked.

"No, I don't," she said irritably. "I'm tired of people asking me if I know something because I don't." She glared at him. "Maybe someone could ask how I'm taking the loss of my parents because that is something I _can_ answer."

They stared daggers at each other for a moment before the Castiel spoke again. "It's dangerous to stay here, we need to leave before more demons come." He turned to Dean.

"What information do the demons think she has?" Dean asked the angel.

"Something that, in the hands of demons, could be dangerous to the angels and to humans," he replied. "I'll contact you when I know more." With that he disappeared with the faint rustling of wings. Elizabeth gasped.

"They do that a lot," Dean said. "Especially if you've just asked them a direct question."


	12. Hunter

**Hunter**

_Halfway to Sioux Falls, South Dakota_

_July 5, 2007_

It was nearing nightfall when Dean pulled into the parking lot of a rundown hotel. The neon sign announcing 'vacancy' flickered from the dark window of the office. A light drizzle had begun to fall, forming tiny bubbles of liquid on the windshield. The lights of the city began to reflect their colors across the wet parking lot as Dean stepped out of the car.

"Wait here," he told Sam. His brother nodded. He was sitting in the backseat with Elizabeth who was fast asleep. Through her tangle of hair, Dean could see the angry bruises that spread across her face. He felt a stab of anger toward the demons. Whatever they wanted with Elizabeth, he wouldn't let them near her. He wondered what it was both the angels and demons thought Elizabeth knew. Clearly she had no idea what they were talking about. How could she?

Entering the hotel office, Dean tapped the bell. A thin man came slowly into the room, favoring his left leg. "How can I help you?" he asked, eyeing Dean.

"Do you have a room with two queens and a twin?" Dean inquired.

"All checked out. I do have a room with two queens though."

"Alright, that will work." Dean slapped his credit card on the counter.

The man swiped it. "Thank you Mr. ... Jimmy Page?"

"Yeah." Dean took the card back and accepted the key for Room 4. Back at the car, Sam pulled Elizabeth out of the car, carrying her to the room. She didn't stir.

"She still alive?" Dean asked as Sam set the sleeping form on one of the beds.

"She's had a rough time," Sam retorted, shooting his brother a stern glance. "Um, there are only two beds."

"Good observation, genius. This was all they had," Dean replied, tossing his stuff on the spare bed. "She's your girlfriend."

"She's not-" Sam glared at Dean. "Never mind, one of us can sleep on the floor."

"That's what little brothers are for." He grinned at Sam, ignoring the impatient glare he received.

"So what's the plan?" Sam asked as he uncomfortably rearranged himself on the floor.

"I say we head to Bobby's. We're nearly there already. Maybe he would know more. At least we'd have somewhere safe to stay."

"Good idea." Sam pounded his pillow, trying to make it softer.

"Comfortable down there?" Dean asked. Sam could picture the smirk on his face.

"Shut up," he retorted.

…

Elizabeth was standing in her childhood home. She could hear her parents arguing in the next room. It seemed strange to her. They never fought. Never argued. Never said an ill word against the other. She was young, too young to fully understand what was going on. She crept closer until she stood at the door, just out of sight but within hearing distance of her parents' argument.

"So you've been lying to me all along!" her mother was sayxsing.

"Not lying, I just didn't think-"

"Didn't think I'd believe the truth?" Her mother laughed without humor. "I can see why. This is crazy!"

"Why is it so hard to believe? You've gone to church your whole life, read the Bible. Why is this so hard to believe?"

"Because you're telling me that you're not human."

"I am now."

"But you weren't." There was sadness in her mother's voice. Elizabeth couldn't figure out what her mother had meant. How could her father not be human?

"I only lied to protect you and Elizabeth. I left that life behind me. I've tried to erase my past, but I didn't realize this would happen. I didn't realize they'd come looking for me."

"Why? Why are they looking for you after all this time?"

"I have something they want. It's not safe, they believe. I hid it well though. No one will ever find it."

"No more lies. What is it you hid? What are they looking for and who are they?"

There was a pause, a moment of silence that lost Elizabeth's interest. She turned to walk away, but before she could leave behind the voices, she heard one word: "Angels."

…

Dawn light filtered into the hotel room through a crack in the curtains. Elizabeth stirred, opening her eyes and scanning the room. At first she was confused by her surroundings, but she realized Sam and Dean would have checked into a hotel. She must have slept through everything. Shaking the hair out of her face, Elizabeth's thoughts went to a hot shower. She stole into the bathroom, careful not to wake Sam and Dean. Poor Sam seemed to have ended up on the floor while Dean lay sprawled on the queen sized bed next to her. Salt lined the doorway and window.

The hot water felt like Heaven washing over her grimy skin. She used most of the shampoo in the tiny hotel bottle and spent most of the hot water before getting out to dry. She donned her clothes, brushing dust from them. She would have to somehow find more clothes to wear and money and… Elizabeth realized she had lost everything. If she went home now, the police would ask her questions. Lots of questions. She was already suspected in the murder of her best friend, Rae. She was lost. Her life as she knew it was gone. Elizabeth felt a surge of hatred rising in her. The demons had taken everything from her. Just like Sam and Dean – they too had lost people they loved because of demons.

At this thought, Elizabeth felt a new resolution building up within her. Leaving the bathroom, she went over to where Sam was sleeping on the floor. Feeling slightly guilty, she nudged him until he stirred. He sat up when he saw her, rubbing his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm-" What was she exactly? "I'm just mad…" she trailed off, not knowing how to express how she felt. "Those demons took everything from me. My life is destroyed. I can never see my parents again, I can never go home, I can never go back to school, I can never live a normal life. Not with what I know, not with what happened." Elizabeth took a deep breath and looked directly at Sam. "I want to become a hunter."

There was a pause, Sam looked slightly crestfallen. "I knew you were going to say that."

"You did?"

"When I went to University, I thought I was leaving behind hunting for good. I was going to marry Jessica, become a lawyer, and settle down to a normal life. But after she died… after she was murdered. I just couldn't go back to that life, you know?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I can't either. I have nothing left. All I have is this anger that's burning inside of me that I can't hold in forever."

"I know the feeling."

"Will you teach me?" Elizabeth asked. Sam hesitated. "I need to at least know how to defend myself," she added.

"Alright," Sam finally consented. "Today we're going to a friend's house. We'll be safe there, and we can teach you how to… defend yourself."

Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you. When I first saw you in the warehouse, I thought you were going to be killed, just like my parents. And I couldn't do anything to stop it."

"I know how that feels. Don't worry though, Dean and I can take care of ourselves." He smiled. "You have no idea what all we've been through."

Elizabeth smiled too. "I look forward to hearing some stories on the way there."

…

Dean wasn't as accepting of Elizabeth's idea. "She's going to get herself killed," he told Sam as they made ready to leave the hotel. He cast a glance at Elizabeth. "She's inexperienced and mad. That anger is going to make her careless."

"We can teach her. Dean, she's set on becoming a hunter," Sam pleaded her case. "She's got nerve, you have to give her that."

"Whatever, just wait until we get to Bobby's before you start filling her head with hunting." Dean slammed the trunk.

"It _is_ her choice. We can't do anything about it. We can either help her learn to defend herself or let her go off on her own." Sam knew he had Dean cornered, but his brother just let out a sigh, climbing into the driver's seat. Elizabeth joined them, climbing into the backseat. Dean turned up Led Zeppelin.

"So," Elizabeth started, "tell me some stories about hunting."

Dean turned his eyes to Sam, casting him a warning glance. Sam ignored him. "Well, where to begin?"


	13. Demons 101

**Demons 101**

The rain clouds formed dark thickets overhead, shunning the sun and swallowing its light. Rain pattered listlessly down, splattering on the streets. Cars passed by, their tires splashing through the newly formed puddles at the side of the road. Castiel strode down the street, oblivious to the people around him. Of course they couldn't see him when he chose not to be seen, and today that suited him. A streetlight flickered up above him as he passed under it. He walked a block further and then entered a small park enclosed by a chain link fence. Water droplets danced on the metal crisscrosses, threatening to fall at any moment. Castiel seated himself on one of the park benches, staring off into the distance.

"Hello, Castiel." A tall woman with long, reddish hair stepped forward out of nowhere. Castiel glanced up at her, unsurprised, and then returned his gaze to the distance. "I've heard the news about the girl. Is it true?"

"Yes." Castiel turned to survey the woman. "She doesn't know who she is or at least she claims not to."

"It's not fair to keep her in the dark. Not after what happened to her family."

"I don't know how to tell her. Her kind isn't exactly accepted by ours."

"Maybe she needs some time. I'm sure she's still busy trying to grasp the concept of angels and demons." The woman sat down next to Castiel, surveying his expression. "You're worried."

"I'm just afraid that what she holds, the information she has, will somehow find itself into the wrong hands. Will you help me, Anna?"

"What can I do that you can't?" she asked.

"You understand her."

"Because I'm not accepted by the angels? Because they believe me to be an abomination?"

Castiel didn't know how to answer her, so he stayed silent.

"I don't owe you anything," she told him. "But I'll do it for her sake. I'll speak with her."

"Thank you."

There was a rustle of wind, and Anna disappeared. Castiel stayed on the park bench awhile longer, and then he too disappeared.

…

_Sioux Falls, South Dakota_

_July 6, 2007_

"Just hold it up like this." Sam took the gun and helped Elizabeth to position it correctly. "Then pull back on the trigger." Elizabeth furrowed her brow in concentration and then shot. The bullet grazed the top of the target. "Close, you're picking up on this really quickly," Sam encouraged her.

"I used to go hunting with my dad, but it's been a few years."

They had arrived at their friend Bobby's house that morning only to find him away on a hunting job. Despite his absence, they had determined that his house would be the safest place for them. Sam had spent the afternoon teaching Elizabeth how to handle a gun, and though she had failed to hit the middle of the target, she was improving quickly.

"So, to hurt a demon you use salt and holy water?" Elizabeth asked, glancing up at Sam.

"Yeah. And there's an exorcism that you can perform too. The only way we've found to kill them is with this knife." He showed Elizabeth a small, jagged knife.

"And ghosts you salt and burn the bones?"

"As you've seen." Sam grinned.

"Vampires you cut off their heads?" Elizabeth grimaced at this.

"Yeah, but we don't come across those too often. What you need to worry about the most is demons."

Elizabeth nodded. "After what they did to me, I'm not afraid to kill them."

"You have to be careful though. Demons are very powerful."

Elizabeth gave him a meek smile. "You just don't want me to get hurt," she surmised. "Thank you, but I'll be fine. I have to do this." She set her jaw.

"Yeah, I know." A silence ensued, and Elizabeth felt herself growing uncomfortable.

She raised the gun again, breaking the silence. This time her shot found its mark. "I think I've had enough practice for now," she told Sam. "My ears are ringing." They walked to the house in silence, Elizabeth practicing loading the gun with salt shots as they went. "So what happens if the demons look for me here?"

"They shouldn't be able to find you here. There are these hex bags we use to keep demons away as well as symbols. This house is kind of like one giant safe room."

"Right…" Elizabeth bit her lip. Learning to be a hunter was proving difficult. There was so much to remember and though her anger fueled her, she was still afraid.

As they entered the house, Elizabeth smelled the strong scent of burgers wafting into the front hall from the kitchen. Sam led her into the back of the house where Dean was waiting with three carryout bags from Zips. "I hope you like bacon cheeseburgers," he told Elizabeth. He pulled a giant burger out of one of the bags and started to eat.

"Yeah." Elizabeth didn't add that she would have preferred a salad, but instead bit into the cheeseburger. She had forgotten how much she loved them.

"God, this is good," Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. Sam rolled his eyes. "How's the training going?" Dean asked. He cast a sideways glance at Sam. He had called Bobby when they had arrived and asked his opinion about Elizabeth becoming a hunter. It had been something along the lines of "stupid" and "foolhardy" and the word "idgit" had been thrown around a few times, but Elizabeth had insisted that she become a hunter. She hadn't taken no for an answer.

"Fine, she's really catching on," Sam replied.

"Good."

"Look, I know you're not happy about all this, but this is _my_ choice. I don't want to put you in danger, so after I learn as much as I can, I'm leaving," Elizabeth said.

"What?" Sam looked surprised. "You can't just go out there on your own."

"I'm not going to get you hurt. They're after _me_ not you."

"We're not going to just abandon you," Sam insisted.

"You don't stand a chance against a demon, let's face it," Dean put in.

Elizabeth looked from one face to the other but could see no way out. "Fine." She put her hands up in surrender. "I'll stay."

"Good. Now what would you do if a demon walked through the door right now?" Dean asked Elizabeth.

"Umm, squirt holy water at it, make a circle of salt to keep myself safe…then exorcise it?" Elizabeth answered hesitantly.

"Demons aren't going to just hold still while you exorcise them."

"You can, however, trap them in a devil's trap. It's a sort of circle that you draw, and a demon can't leave it once it's in." Sam grabbed a pen and began to draw a picture on a spare napkin. "Like this." He showed Elizabeth.

"When do I have time to draw that?"

"You need to be prepared for the unexpected, but if a demon just walks in the door and you don't have time for the devil's trap, lure it into a trap that already exists or keep it at bay with the salt and holy water while you exorcise it."

"Alright…" Elizabeth realized that her training would have to involve defense and fighting as well. She wished she had taken karate in high school. "So, pretty much I'd be dead?"

"Pretty much."

"Dean," Sam said in a warning voice. "She's doing fine. We didn't do so great with our first demon."

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked.

"Sammy here made friends with a demon," Dean started, earning a glare from Sam.

"I didn't know she was a demon. I met her when I was hitchhiking. Dean and I had, uh, had a disagreement, and we're going our separate ways. She seemed harmless enough. We ran into her in Seattle and thought it to be too much of a coincidence. She set up a trap for us, and we walked right into it."

"She's given us a lot of trouble. She possessed Sam once."

"She _possessed_ you?" Elizabeth gasped.

"Those demons, they're inside of humans," Sam explained. "They can possess any unprotected human. That's why we have these." He tugged down the top of his shirt, showing off a tattoo. "It's a protective symbol."

"Then… those were _real_ people?" Elizabeth whispered, horrified at the thought. "I thought killing demons meant killing a monster, not an innocent person."

"Yeah, it's hard. That's why there are exorcisms. Not everyone possessed makes it though. The demons don't exactly go easy on the people they possess."

"How many are there? How many demons?"

"Hundreds? Thousands? Who knows?" Dean said darkly. As he spoke, there was a creak from the front hallway. Sam and Dean tensed, and Elizabeth half expected a demon to come walking through the doorway to the kitchen. Dean grabbed a nearby gun loaded with salt shots, and Sam grabbed the knife. Elizabeth took up a small bottle of holy water, feeling useless.

They moved noiselessly from the table and into the next room. There was another creak. Elizabeth felt the hair on the back of her neck rising. Three more steps would take them through the library and into the front hall. Elizabeth took a deep breath peered into the dark hallway.


	14. Fallen Angel

**Fallen Angel**

Out of the darkness stepped Castiel.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Dean asked, lowering his gun.

Castiel shot him an impatient glance. "I need to speak with Elizabeth," he told Sam and Dean.

Sam and Dean held their ground. "What's your part in all this, Cas? Are the angels after her too?" Dean asked.

"We're not _after_ her, we're trying to protect her," Castiel insisted.

"It's okay, I'll talk to him," Elizabeth said. Dean nodded and followed Sam back into the kitchen. Elizabeth turned to Castiel. "What did you need to speak to me about?" she asked. "I still have no idea what it is you think I know."

"I want you to meet someone," he said, taking a step forward. "I know all of this is new to you, but there are things you need to know."

"Alright." Elizabeth watched as Castiel approached her. She felt somewhat intimidated by him, unsure of how to act, but a part of her still fumed at his disregard for her yesterday. Obviously the angels were interested in getting something from her and not so much worrying about who got hurt along the way.

"I'm going to take you to meet her." He laid a hand on her shoulder. There was an uncomfortable sensation, and suddenly Elizabeth found herself standing on a dock. Night fell around her and stars cast blurred reflections on the surrounding water. A single lamppost cast a dim light over the docks. A cold wind picked up, tossing her long, golden hair back. Elizabeth turned around, looking to Castiel for an explanation.

"What happened? Where are we?" she asked, her voice high with tension.

"Don't worry, you're safe," he assured her.

"We didn't just_ fly,_ did we?" Elizabeth asked. She was having trouble grasping the concept of angels.

Castiel opened his mouth, but before he could answer, a woman walked up to them from out of the darkness. She was tall and slight with long, reddish hair and a pale face. She smiled at Elizabeth.

"Hello, Elizabeth, I'm Anna," she introduced, stepping into the light. The light flickered slightly as she approached, sparks flying down from the lamppost.

"Hi," Elizabeth returned shyly. "Are you an angel too?"

"Yes." Anna turned to Castiel. "You weren't followed?"

"No."

"Good." Anna turned back to Elizabeth. "I'm not exactly a favorite among the angels right now," she explained. Elizabeth saw a sad look pass through the angel's eyes. "Anyway, Castiel asked if I could help, and I think I can. There's something you need to know, Elizabeth."

"What?" Elizabeth was growing nervous. The serious looks on the angels' faces were less than reassuring. "What is this big secret that I supposedly know? Why are the demons after me?"

"These are all very good questions, and I hope that this can answer them. I myself don't know the answers. But you do, they're just buried somewhere deep." Anna stepped forward. "Take my hand," she said, "and I'll show you."

Elizabeth glanced at Castiel, and he nodded to her. With a deep breath, Elizabeth took Anna's hand. It was like warm water washing over her head. She felt memories stirring within her. She saw a man. Her father. He looked different though. Fiercer, stronger. He was looking down on … on Earth, she realized. She saw a glow around him, ethereal and beautiful. He was an angel.

"This was Narandril," Anna told her, bringing Elizabeth back to the present. "Do you recognize him?"

Elizabeth stared at her. "That was my father," she said, her voice small. Castiel was looking intently at her. "But that's not possible. My father wasn't an angel."

"Narandril fell in love with a human. This is strictly forbidden for angels. He acted on his feelings, and you were born. Later he was cast down from Heaven and his grace was taken from him. He became mortal."

Elizabeth was trying to process what Anna was telling her. "So you're telling me that I'm part angel?"

"Nephilim," Castiel put in. "The offspring of an angel and a human. They are not fondly looked on by angels," he added as if speaking of a mutt mixed with a purebred.

"Then why are the angels protecting me?" Elizabeth asked, narrowing her eyes.

"When Narandril's grace was taken, he stole it back and hid it somewhere out of reach. The demons seem to have discovered it – not its location but its existence. An angel's grace in the hands of a demon could be catastrophic. That's why we – the angels – need to find it first," Castiel explained.

"And you think I know where it is? Well, I don't. I didn't know any of this until you just now told me. I'm not sure I even believe it."

"You're the only one left who could know."

"Well I don't." Elizabeth was getting frustrated. "You keep telling me what I do and don't know. You're an angel, why can't you just figure it out yourself?" she asked Castiel.

"We're not all-powerful. I can't just will myself to find it," Castiel replied, his voice tinged with impatience.

"This isn't helping anyone," Anna cut in. "The point is, someone needs to find that grace before the demons do and someone needs to protect Elizabeth. And not just from demons."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"When you've helped the angels find the grace, or when they realize that you don't know where it is, there's no reason for them to keep you around. Most of them consider nephilim to be an abomination."

"Is that true?" Elizabeth asked, turning back to Castiel. "You think me an abomination? You just want to use me?"

"I'm not the one who started this mission. I was sent to find it."

"I need to go," Anna said suddenly. "More angels are nearby." She vanished with the faint flutter of wings leaving Castiel and Elizabeth alone.

"Take me back to Sam and Dean," she told him.

He looked as if he was going to refuse but then put a hand on her arm and they were back in the hallway where they had been standing before.

"I don't want to help you find my father's grace," she told him. "Maybe if you ask nicely and don't plan to murder me afterwards. Maybe." She turned on her heels and left him standing there, heading up to the room she had been given for their stay. She slammed the door and sat down on the bed, contemplating what she had just learned. Her father had been an _angel_. And she was half-angel. What had Castiel called her? Nephilim? She'd never heard of such a thing. She put her head in her hands, hot tears of frustration running down her cheeks. All of this was out of control. She would never be able to ask her father if it was the truth. She would never be able to ask either of her parents anything again. She started to sob, the emotions built up over the past week finally hitting her in a tsunami of hurt.

In the span of a few weeks her life had changed so completely that she didn't even feel like the same person. She might as well change her name. She wasn't the same Elizabeth Martin who had moved to Haskins, Ohio with her best friend anymore. She wasn't really sure who she was. Not human. Not entirely anyway. What a thought that was. She had no idea how she was going to sleep, but somehow she found herself dreaming. She dreamt of angels with billowing black wings and an ethereal glow. Did she have wings too, she wondered. Her dreams changed and she saw herself as a mutilated half-angel with ragged, weak wings. The angels chased after her, scorning her and calling her a monster.

She flew away from them, her ragged wings taking her slowly through the air. Each flap sent pain coursing through her body until she felt herself lose momentum and begin to fall. She tumbled through the air, landing hard in a heap. She looked up to see her house in front of her. She saw bloodstains on the door and began to scream. Then the scene shifted and she saw her father, still alive, holding something that glowed. It was kept in a small, glass bottle that fit perfectly within his grip. He slid it into his pocket and headed out to his truck. Getting in, he revved the engine. Elizabeth watched from where she stood, suddenly young again. She peered around the corner of her house as her dad and his truck vanished from sight.

The cabin. That's where her mother told her he was going. Just for a few days. But what had he been carrying with him? As if a light had been flicked on in her brain, Elizabeth suddenly knew what it was he had been carrying. His grace. And he was taking it to the cabin they owned in Seeley Lake, Montana.

Elizabeth woke with her heart beating wildly. She finally remembered. She had had the memories all along. They had just been scattered and she'd lacked the tools to put them together. Now she remembered. She didn't know what to do with this information. She should tell Castiel. If she helped him, perhaps he'd protect her from the angels. Would they really kill her after she helped them? She hadn't done any harm. She couldn't help that her father had fallen in love with a human.

She didn't know what to do and her eyes flickered shut before she could make up her mind. All she knew was that somewhere out there was a part of her father. It was something that had once defined him. It was all she had left of her family. Whatever the cost, she would find it. But not for the angels, not for Castiel, but for herself.


	15. Revelation

**Revelation**

Elizabeth felt as if she hadn't slept at all when she awoke. Her mind was still groggy after the day before. At first she believed that it had all been a dream, but realization came crashing back over her, crushing the breath from her lungs for a moment. Finally she gained control of herself and stood carefully, afraid she'd feel light headed once again. When she found herself somewhat steady, she quickly dressed, changing into a spare set of clothes she had picked up on the way to Bobby's house. Slipping downstairs, she found both brothers sitting in the library. Sam was looking through an old book with yellowed pages and a torn binding. It looked centuries old. Dean was cleaning one of his many guns. Elizabeth stepped quietly into the room.

"Hey," Sam greeted her, looking up from his book. "Is everything alright? We were worried when you didn't come back after talking with Castiel."

"I'm sorry. I was really tired so I just went straight to my room," Elizabeth apologized, tugging nervously at the sleeve of her jacket.

"So what did Cas want to talk about?" Dean asked, setting aside the gun.

Elizabeth cast a nervous glance between the two brothers. "He wanted to introduce me to someone; another angel named Anna."

"Anna?" Dean asked. "Yeah, we know her."

"Anna showed me some memories – my own memories…"

"So you found out what the demons were after?" Sam asked, setting down the book. Both brothers' attention was now on Elizabeth. She nodded nervously.

"They're looking for a certain angel's grace."

"What angel?" Dean asked. "And what do they want with grace?"

"Umm, his name was Narandril. I guess the demons think his grace has some sort of power they can use. That's why the angels are involved too. And there's something else…" Elizabeth hesitated.

Dean cocked his brow. "I'll bite."

"Well, I know Narandril."

"So you have met an angel before?" He exchanged a look with Sam. "How do you know him?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Well, I didn't know that he was an angel. And he went by a different name…"

"Okay, sometime today would be great," Dean said getting impatient.

"Dean," Sam warned, frowning at his brother. "What did you find out, Elizabeth? You can tell us," he said in a softer voice.

"Narandril was my father. My father was an angel," Elizabeth blurted out.

There was a long pause. "Come again?" Dean asked.

"My father was an angel. He fell in love with a human – my mother – and they had me. Later he fell, but I'm half-angel." Elizabeth watched their confused expressions change. Sam looked slightly awed while Dean looked vexed.

"_You_ are part _angel?_" he clarified. Elizabeth just nodded, unable to speak. "Is there even a name for that?"

"Anna called me a nephilim. Castiel was very clear in stating how little angels think of nephilim. I got the idea that angels think of them as 'mutts.'"

"That's not fair," Sam said.

"So you had no idea about any of this?" Dean asked. Elizabeth shook her head. "Then why did they think you knew something?"

"I had some memories stored away that I had no idea I even had. Anna helped me find them. She helped me piece things together. I remembered things – an argument between my parents. My mom didn't know at first – she took the news badly. And my father's grace… I saw it once. He was taking it somewhere to hide."

"Do you know where?" Dean asked.

"I think I do," she said. "He had a cabin up in Seely Lake, Montana. He used to go there alone to think and fish. He went up there the day after their argument. That's when I saw his grace, kept in a tiny bottle. I think it's hidden there."

"Have you told Castiel that?" Dean asked.

"No. I haven't told anyone but you. It's all I have left of my father," she added pleadingly. "I don't want to give it to them."

"Then don't," Dean said. "I see no reason why they need it back."

"They're afraid the demons will get ahold of it," Elizabeth said.

"Then we'll make sure they don't get it. We'll find it first," Dean said.

"And do what with it?" Sam asked. "Then they'll come after us. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be trapped in the middle of an angel/demon strife. It'd be like playing keep-away with raw meat in a shark infested ocean."

Dean gave him a stare. "Nice analogy."

"Shut up."

"Guys," Elizabeth interrupted. "Sam has a point. I get the feeling that once I find the grace, both parties are going to be aware of it. We need some sort of plan first."

"I don't really see how we're going to hide it from Cas," Sam said, frowning.

"Maybe we need to find out a little more about grace first," Elizabeth suggested. "Isn't that what you do when you take on a new case? Research all aspects of what you're hunting?"

"She has a good point," Sam said, looking at his brother.

Dean looked between the two of them. "That's your idea of a date? Looking through dusty old books? Alright. I'm gonna go to the store. We're almost out of beer. And pie."

Elizabeth and Sam watched as Dean threw on his coat and backed out of the kitchen.

"Okaaay, that was smooth," Elizabeth said. Sam snorted and soon the two of them were laughing.

"Well, we might as well get started," Sam said.


	16. Angel Lore

**Angel Lore**

Bobby's library was more like a museum. Old books were piled haphazardly on the floor and bookshelves lined the walls. An old oak desk sat in front of a stone fireplace. Papers lay scattered all over the surface – some looked ancient as if they had been pulled out of some very old texts. Elizabeth stared around the room.

"Where do we start?" she asked, feeling overwhelmed.

"Well, why don't you look up angels on my laptop? I'll get started looking around here. I sort of know Bobby's system." He laughed.

"Alright." Elizabeth grabbed Sam's laptop from the kitchen table, bringing it back into the library and setting it down on the desk. "Never thought I'd be researching angels. I thought I knew everything there was to know about them. Live in Heaven, have white fluffy wings and halos, guard over you when you sleep. Seems I was a little wrong about all that." Sam smiled.

"Yeah, they kind of took us by surprise too. Castiel isn't too bad, but some of them… Let's just say, Cas is friendly compared to most of them."

"Then I'm not sure I want to meet more," Elizabeth muttered. She opened the laptop and set to work, typing 'angels' into the google search. When thousands of results popped up, she narrowed her search to 'angel grace.' Most of the pages were unrelated, but she found one website that looked interesting.

Sam got to work on the books, pulling a couple of dusty tomes down from a high shelf. He pulled up a chair next to the desk, opening one of the books with a creak. "As I recall, most of the information about angels came from one book." He tapped his finger on the cover of one of the books.

"The Bible?"

"Yeah, there hasn't really been anything written on angel lore. At least nothing reliable. As far as I know, Dean and I are some of the few who have really interacted with angels."

"Lucky you."

"You're still pissed about Cas's indifference toward your family dying, aren't you?" Sam said.

"Yeah, maybe. I guess I should let it go, but it rubs me the wrong way when someone comes flying in – literally in the case – and starts telling me what I know and what I need to do. Why should I just hand over my father's grace? It was _his_, and I'm his daughter."

"The angels seem to have big plans for everything," Sam said.

"Even you?"

"Dean more like. They seem really interested in him." He paused as if contemplating how much to tell Elizabeth. "Cas pulled Dean out of hell, you know."

"What? No, I didn't. Like literally out of hell?"

"Yeah."

"What on earth was he doing there? I know he's a little…well, he's got that whole bad boy thing going for him, but what did he do to get thrown in there?"

"He made a deal with a demon," Sam said. "A cross-road demon. To save my life."

"I can tell there's a lot more to your guys' lives than I know," Elizabeth said.

"Uh, yeah, more than I can tell you in a week."

"So you were dying?"

"Dead, actually."

Elizabeth stared at him. "You died? How?"

"Long story. Let's just say it involved demons. Especially one particular demon that had plans for me. I used to have these abilities. I had dreams that would come true."

"Fore dreams?"

"Yeah, something like that. There were other people like me – people with abilities. This demon was building an army. We were his plan. He ended up kidnapping us and dropping us off in an abandoned ghost town. We…we picked each other off. If one of us gave into the power, well, he or she kind of went dark side. I got stabbed and died. Dean made a deal with a demon to bring me back to life. But he ended up with the short end of the stick. He got one year and then he went to hell and the demon got his soul. We went to a hell of a lot of trouble to get his soul back, but we weren't in time."

"How long was he down there?"

"A year."

"That's horrible. No wonder he can be…moody."

"Yeah."

"So Castiel saved his life. Dean doesn't seem to have much patience for his angel friend."

"No, but he doesn't have much patience for anyone. He and Cas have a complicated relationship. Dean doesn't like to admit he thinks Cas is all right and Cas hasn't quite figured out how to be friends with a human yet."

Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, he hasn't really worked out his people skills yet."

"Find anything online?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"Just this one site. It's called Supernaturalwiki. Like Wikipedia I guess, but for the supernatural. It has a lot of interesting information. But wait, it's based on this book series." She scrolled down the page. "By Carver Edlund? Heard of him?"

"Oh, God, not those books…"

"That bad?"

"Uhh, yeah, but the information is pretty accurate. Like dead on."

"Even though they're fiction?"

"Fiction that's actually based on real life. They're about us. Dean and me."

"Okay, did you sell your lives to a writer?"

"No, he's a prophet actually. And those books are all about our lives. In fact, you're probably in them too."

"Okay, that's just weird."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Having our lives wide open to the public – not exactly comforting."

"Well, anyway, good to know the information is valid. Here's what it says on angel grace: 'Grace is a type of energy related to an angel's power and purity. It's effectively what makes them angels. Without it they are mortal.'"

"Did your father fall of his own accord or was he kicked out of Heaven, do you know?"

"I had the impression he was kicked out, but I'm not sure how he got his grace back. Maybe he stole it back somehow. So it's basically what makes an angel and angel."

"Sounds like it."

"But Anna said she fell – of her own accord. Meaning she ripped out her grace. That sounds painful. She took it back though and became an angel again. What happens if an angel is dead? I mean, does that mean that he's still alive – that the grace _is _him?"

"I'm not sure. This is where it gets complicated. I think if he turned human then he's gone. Maybe the angels just want to destroy it to make sure it doesn't get into the wrong hands."

"I don't want them to destroy what's left of my dad," Elizabeth said softly.

"We won't let them," Sam said. "Don't worry. We'll figure out something."

As they continued to research in silence, the clouds broke outside, letting down an onslaught of rain that pounded against the windowpanes with tremendous force. Elizabeth gazed out the window, watching the rain fall. "Dean's taking his time," she commented.

"Yeah, probably couldn't find anywhere to get pie."

"What's the deal with the pie?" Elizabeth asked.

"You don't even want to know…"

* * *

Credit goes to Supernaturalwiki for the 'angel grace' info. We're just gonna pretend the website is based on the books and exists in Sam and Dean's world for the sake of this story.


	17. In the Heat of the Moment

**In the Heat of the moment**

"I'm not finding anything else," Elizabeth said after awhile. "There's no theory on grace. It just says what it is."

"Yeah, I'm coming up with nothing too."

"When can we go get it?" Elizabeth asked, shutting the laptop. "I mean, I have no idea how to hide it, but maybe we can find some sort of protection that keeps it hidden from angels and demons."

"I might know just the thing," Sam said thoughtfully. "Maybe we can go tomorrow. Let's wait until this storm passes though." As if agreeing it his idea, a loud clap of thunder sounded outside, rattling the windows. Elizabeth shivered.

"Why don't I build a fire?" Sam asked, leaning down to kindle the fireplace. When he had it burning, he pushed some papers aside and sat on the edge of the desk. Elizabeth turned her chair around, putting her hands toward the fire.

As the silence wore on, Elizabeth was suddenly aware of the tension between them. "We never really thought we'd see each other again, did we?" she asked.

"I guess not." Sam laughed like he did when he was feeling slightly awkward. She had forgotten how disarming his eyes were.

"I wish it could be different circumstances," she said, looking down at the floor, "but I'm not unhappy the way this turned out, at least." She peered up at him.

"Me neither." He grinned shyly. Suddenly the room seemed overheated. Elizabeth found herself unconsciously leaning toward Sam. Without thinking, she stood, moving closer to him until her face was inches from his. She could feel his breath on her face. He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her in closer. She ran her fingers through his hair, leaning in close to kiss him. As their lips brushed, Elizabeth felt a surge of relief. Half-angel or not, Sam still liked her the way she was.

Lightning flashed outside the window, dazzling Elizabeth's eyes as she and Sam broke apart for breath. "It doesn't bother you?" she asked. "Me being part-angel and all?"

"Of course not." Sam brushed her hair out of her face, rubbing his thumb along her jawline. "I liked you for who you were and that hasn't changed," he added.

Elizabeth put her arm around Sam's neck, pulling herself closer to him as they kissed again. She felt her worries melt away. For a moment she forgot in her happiness what had passed the last few weeks. It had been a long time since she had been able to kiss someone, to feel his hands on her back, pulling her close. It had been so long since she had felt so safe. After everything, it was the happiest moment she had experienced in a very long time. She lost track of time, only vaguely aware that the storm was growing even louder outside.

She felt a slight tug as Sam pushed her sweater off of her shoulders, exposing the skin around her neck and shoulders. She tugged the sleeves until the sweater fell to the floor. Goosebumps ran up her arms, but she didn't mind. She felt cool hands as Sam held her waist, pulling her closer yet. Her heart beat loudly under her skin, and she was sure he could hear it. Then an especially loud clap of thunder startled them. As they broke apart, they were suddenly aware of another presence in the room.

They spun on the spot, surprised. There stood Castiel. Elizabeth blushed violently while Sam stood awkwardly beside her.

"You didn't-" Elizabeth started, feeling mortified.

"I just arrived," Castiel replied, but his narrowed eyes told her he had seen _something_.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a too-high voice.

"I wanted to see if you'd remembered the location of Narandril's grace."

"You mean my father's grace?" she returned coldly.

"Yes, technically speaking-"

"No," she said bluntly. "I don't know what you expect me to remember, but I don't remember where it is."

She could feel Sam's eyes on her, but he remained silent. Castiel's eyes narrowed and then wandered to the open book that Sam had been looking through. "Researching something?" he asked.

"Just a little bit about angels. Naturally I'm a little bit curious."

"It might be best if you don't know a lot about us," Castiel said.

Elizabeth glared at him. "My father was an angel. Don't I have a right to know a little bit about him?"

"He was human for your entire life," Castiel replied. "You don't need to know anymore."

"Then what about me?" she asked.

"What about you?"

"I'm half-angel. Doesn't that mean something? I know about the whole abomination thing, but there has to be more to being part angel than that."

Castiel sighed. "Nephilim do have certain powers but they are not as powerful as angels."

"What sort of powers?" When Castiel didn't answer at once, she strode toward him, looking him straight in the eye. "Are you afraid I'll use them against you or something if you tell me?"

"Your powers are no match for an angel of the Lord."

Elizabeth laughed. "Is that what this is all about? I'm not going to use my powers against you. Maybe if some of your kind decided I'm not worth keeping around, but I'm not a monster."

Castiel contemplated her request for a moment. "You have some healing powers – you heal quicker than a human and can heal the minor injuries of others. You have some power that can be used in defense, but it's not very strong."

"Do I have wings?" she asked. He looked down at her almost pityingly.

"Only a true angel has wings," he replied.

"So no flying for me?" she asked, giving a shaky laugh.

"No," Castiel looked confused.

"I was joking. Never mind. So what happens if I do find the grace?" she asked.

"Well, we think it's best if it's destroyed so that no one can use it," Castiel told her.

"Who's we? It's not yours to destroy. It belongs to my father."

"Narandril is dead-"

"I don't need reminding, thank you. I don't know where it is anyway. Come back another time."

Castiel looked angry at being dismissed in such a way but a second later he had disappeared with the faint rustle of wings.


	18. Cut to the Chase

**Cut to the Chase**

The rest of the evening passed in relative quietness. Sam and Elizabeth continued to look for more information on angel grace sitting in their respective seats in Bobby's library. Dean returned late with a case of beer and a paper bag.

"I had to go to three stores before I found pie," he said, sounding disheartened. "And they only had one slice left."

"Tragic," Elizabeth muttered. Sam didn't look up from his book. Dean looked between the two of them.

"Is there something I'm missing?" he asked. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

"Castiel was here," Elizabeth said. "Again. Asking _again_ if I knew anything."

"Did you tell him anything?"

"No. I don't trust the angels with this," Elizabeth said, shutting Sam's laptop and standing. "We're running out of time," she added. "We need to get the grace tomorrow."

"Okay, and do we have a way to keep the angels and demons from realizing we have it?" Dean asked.

"I think I might have a way," Sam said. "We know symbols to keep both angels and demons away and Cas has given us a hex bag to keep angels and demons from finding us. If we draw those symbols on a hex bag and put the grace inside, we should be able to shield it from unfriendly eyes."

"Wow, you just sounded like a total nerd just then," Dean said.

"Thanks." Sam rolled his eyes.

"But that might just work," Dean added. "Well, this pie isn't going to eat itself." He disappeared into the kitchen.

"I'll get the bag ready," Sam told Elizabeth. "Why don't you get some sleep? You've had a long few days."

"That sounds good," she said, her mind set on a hot shower before climbing into bed. As she let the hot water run down her back, her mind traveled back to the library earlier. She blushed as she thought of Sam's lips on hers. Who knew what her life would hold, especially once she recovered her father's grace. She'd probably have to go on the run. Whatever her future, she hoped that Sam would be a part of it, but she also knew the life of a hunter was a lonely one. She wondered if she had any powers. Castiel had been vague about all that and what being a Nephilim meant, but she was curious now. She didn't know where to begin. It wasn't like she'd just start performing miracles now that she knew she was part-angel. She shook her head, scattering water. Never mind her angel-powers if they even existed. She had bigger things to worry about.

After Elizabeth had dried herself off and dressed in an old T-shirt and sweatpants, she switched off the bathroom light and headed toward her room. Then she stopped. Something wasn't right. She couldn't explain how she knew this, she just did. It was like there was a tremor of electricity running down her spine and through her veins. She hesitated, looking over the banister. The front hall was empty. She could see a light on in the kitchen and hear the low rumble of conversation. Sam and Dean hadn't heard anything otherwise they'd be standing by the door, shotguns ready. The storm had faded, and the night was still outside. Nothing stirred.

Elizabeth sighed, heading to her room. There was a sudden gust of wind and the shudders on the outside of the house rattled. She told herself to keep walking. But something still wasn't right. She paused at the door to her room, hand halfway to the doorknob. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash and the glass shattered in one of the rooms downstairs. She heard a chair fall over in the kitchen as one of the Winchesters got to his feet in a hurry. There were shouts and the sound of breaking glass. Elizabeth looked frantically around. She had nothing to defend herself with. She didn't even know what she was up against. Sam and Dean were talented hunters to be sure, but whatever this was, it had taken them by surprise.

"We don't have it!" came Dean's voice from downstairs.

The grace. He had to be talking about the grace. Castiel was the one handling this for the angels, so it had to be demons downstairs. Suddenly Elizabeth knew what to do. She ran back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She looked frantically around. Something to write with, something to write with. She grabbed a tube of toothpaste. It would have to do. She would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious. She started globbing it onto the floor of the bathroom, making a demon trap just the way Sam had taught her. Then she turned off the light and waited.

…

Sam and Dean had not been prepared for the sudden arrival of three demons. They had come crashing through the kitchen windows, taking both brothers by surprise. Dean hadn't been able to reach his shotgun fast enough. Now two of the demons held the brothers while the third paced in front of them.

"We don't have it!" Dean spat. "You think we could hide an angel's grace from you? Or the angels for that matter? We're not stupid enough to get mixed up in that."

"But the girl knows and you're hiding the girl," the demon said. "I assume she's somewhere in the house." There was a thump from upstairs and the demon smirked. "Don't move," it said before moving off to head upstairs. Sam and Dean exchanged a worried glance.

"You sure you want to do this?" Sam asked the two demons holding them. "The angels are after it too. They're keeping tabs on Elizabeth. Who knows, they could show up at any minute."

The demons exchanged glances. "Shut up," the one holding Dean said.

"Just thought we'd let you know," Dean said. "You know, in case you didn't want to end up with fried eyeballs."

Just then they heard a scream from upstairs. "Elizabeth." Sam's heart pounded. "If you hurt her–" Whatever his threat was going to be, it was cut off when a bright light filled the room. Both demons fell, screaming as they went down. Sam and Dean were suddenly free. When the light dimmed, they saw Anna standing there.

"Good timing," Dean told her.

"Where's Elizabeth?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry," Anna told him. "Castiel is with her."

…

Elizabeth sat, waiting. Finally she heard the door creak open and light flooded the room. A woman stood before her – not a woman. Her eyes were full black. She was a demon.

"Well, well, hiding out in the dark, are we?" she asked, taking a step into the room and directly into the devil's trap. Elizabeth was worried that the toothpaste wasn't going to hold, but she kept a straight face, not showing her fear.

"Just waiting for you," Elizabeth said, keeping her voice steady. "And before you ask, no, I don't have the grace. But I do know where it is."

"And where is it?" the demon asked. "If you tell me now, I'll spare your life. I can't say the same for your friends down there. The Winchesters and demons aren't exactly friendly."

"That's just the thing," Elizabeth said, standing. "You're not going anywhere, so I don't really see why I should have to tell you."

"Oh, I'm not –" she paused, looking down. "You little bitch."

Elizabeth waved the toothpaste tube in front of the demon. "I'm just resourceful," she said, feeling pleased with herself. She found herself almost wishing Castiel was there to see her catching a demon single-handed with only a tube of toothpaste. All human, no angel powers necessary. And then there was a flash of light. The demon fell down, eyes burned out of the sockets. Elizabeth screamed in surprise. Castiel stood in the doorway.

Elizabeth stared up at him, mouth agape. "I had that handled!" she said finally.

"Clearly." He looked at the toothpaste tube she held in her hand and she blushed, tossing it aside. "When were you planning on telling me that you remembered the location of the grace?" he asked calmly.

"What? I never said I knew!" she said in a rush.

"I heard you tell the demon you knew where it was."

"I was lying."

"I don't think you were. You're playing games, and the angels' patience is running out."

"What about my patience?" Elizabeth asked. "I'm getting tired of everyone trying to force me to give them my father's grace!"

"It's not yours to keep."

"And it's not yours either!" They glared at each other for a moment before Castiel turned from the room. "Come on," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"I need to speak with Sam and Dean." He left her behind and she scrambled after him, avoiding the dead body. It was startling how easily she could forget about it. She caught up with the angel.

"I don't want the rest of my father destroyed," she said softly.

Castiel stopped and looked at her. "It's not him anymore," he said gently. His tone surprised Elizabeth. "Don't think you're the only one who cared about him. Narandril was a good friend and a good angel, but he chose a mortal life, and now he's gone. There's no bringing him back."

"I know that."

"Then it's time for you to let go."

"Just like that? When I just found out that I didn't know the first thing about him?"

"You knew him," Castiel said. "You knew him as your father. Just because you didn't know him as Narandril doesn't mean you didn't know him. He gave up that life for a reason."

Elizabeth contemplated his words for a moment. "Alright," she said finally. "I'll tell you where it is."


	19. Grace

**Grace**

"We were planning on driving over there tomorrow if this storm passes," Sam told Castiel and Anna. Elizabeth had told them everything after they had all convened in the kitchen. She was tired of keeping secrets. Castiel had worn her down. She was ready to give up the object that had put her on the demons_ and_ the angels' top list of people who needed to be hunted down.

"We need to go now," Castiel returned. "Before more demons come."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Dean grabbed his leather jacket from the back of a chair.

"We'll meet you there," Castiel said. He and Anna disappeared with the slightest flutter.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to them doing that," Elizabeth said.

"Yeah, well, it makes for really abrupt conversation enders," Dean put in.

…

The storm was nearly deafening as Dean pulled out onto the highway in the Impala. Ever since the demon attack, it had come back with a force to be reckoned with. Inside the car there was silence. Elizabeth watched the windshield wipers slash madly back and forth, trying to keep up with the rain. She couldn't see anything outside of the car besides the occasional headlights in the distance.

"So do we know where exactly this grace is?" Dean asked. "Besides at your dad's property."

"No clue."

"Well, Cas couldn't have picked a worse night to go on a scavenger hunt."

"Well, angels have never been known for making everybody's life convenient," Sam replied. "He seemed to think someone else was getting close to finding it."

"More demons, great." Dean turned his attention back to the road, and they drove on in silence.

…

An few hours later they drove across the Montana state line and toward Seeley Lake. The rain had slacked off and now it was only a light drizzle. The rest of the drive went on in silence. When the reached the road that led to the cabin, Elizabeth directed Dean to where it lay hidden. A winding road through the woods led around a dark lake and then into a thick patch of evergreens. Dean parked the Impala in front of a small rustic cabin. Out of the darkness stepped Castiel.

"Have you found it?" Elizabeth asked.

"It's hidden from me," Castiel said. "He must have put some sort of protection over it that keeps angels from finding it."

"I'll find it." Elizabeth took a step toward the cabin. The door was unlocked, and she walked in. The power had been turned off, and the cabin was pitch dark. Sam and Dean came up behind her with flashlights. Castiel trailed after them.

"Where's Anna?" Elizabeth asked, looking around for the red-headed angel.

"She's gone," Castiel said. "She didn't want to be here in case more angels came."

"Are we expecting more angels?" Dean asked.

Castiel looked over at him. "I didn't tell anyone else about the grace if that's what you're asking."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked. He switched his gaze over to her.

"Because you deserve the chance to say goodbye before we destroy the grace," he said.

Sam and Dean looked shocked. "Wait, you're actually doing something for her? Something nice?" Dean asked, sounding astonished.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Narandril _was_ her father," he said. "I'm not heartless, you know."

"That's news to me," Dean said.

Elizabeth pushed past them, taking the flashlight from Dean. The boys stood watching her as she searched the dark recesses of the cabin. She didn't know where to start. _Think of your father_, she told herself, but all she could think of was an angel – the father she never knew. Larry Martin was a very different man. She tried to think back to her life with her parents, her childhood. But she couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary. She stopped as she reached the fireplace. A puzzle box sat on the mantle.

"I remember that box," she said quietly. "I used to try to solve it when I was a little girl. My dad showed me one time. I wonder if I can remember still." She took up the box.

"Those are enochian symbols," Castiel said, coming up behind her. "Angel symbols."

"What do they mean?" Elizabeth asked, looking up at him.

"They protect this box from angels – an angel cannot get into it or see it from afar."

"Then this has to be it," Elizabeth said, turning back to the box. "His grace is in here. I can feel it." She could, there was an energy inside the box that seemed to call to her. With nimble fingers, she slid the panels of the box in a familiar pattern. There was a click and the box opened. A glow lit up the room as the grace appeared, tucked in a bottle at the bottom of the box. "There it is," she said. "My father's grace."

"Good job, Castiel." A voice came from the doorway. A man and a woman walked into the cabin. Angels. "We'll take that," the woman said to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth didn't move. "You did agree," Castiel told her.

"You're going to destroy it?" she asked the angels. "How? What will that do?" The thought of destroying something so pure hurt her.

"It will be harmless," the man said. "We can't let it fall into the wrong hands."

"It's not in the wrong hands," Elizabeth said calmly. Something about the grace felt right. It didn't want to be destroyed – it was almost alive, pulsing with urgency, telling her to keep it safe. The angels took a step forward. Sam and Dean moved in front of Elizabeth.

Castiel looked down at her from where he stood beside her. "Elizabeth, it's not yours to keep. Please."

"This feels wrong," she insisted. "It's not something you can just destroy."

Then she moved mechanically and her actions didn't seem like her own. She took the bottle from the box. The angels moved forward again, but she had already unstopped the bottle, dropping the cork to the ground. The grace swelled up, the light filling the room with an almost blinding force. It swirled upward, spiraling into her mouth and through her body. She felt the heat now, raging within her body like liquid fire. Her very skin seemed to glow brightly. Pain began to fill her body, and she dropped the botttle in anguish. She heard the shattering of the glass. She heard herself screaming though she was not aware that she had begun to scream. All at once the pain, the light, and the fire all came to a climax. Everything burst into white light, so bright that it was the most perfect, unflawed brilliance that only pure white can be.

The grace had enveloped her now, and there was no taking it back. It felt familiar, like a long forgotten favorite coat. She let it wrap itself around her. The grace now glowed like a hot ember within her heart, sending out heat waves that seemed to ignite her body.

The pain began to fade. She no longer felt as if shattered glass was tearing at her flesh. She felt as light and as free as she had ever felt. As the light faded around her, she felt different. She saw faces looking at her in astonishment and horror. She felt something weigh down on her back, and looked behind her to see what they were all staring at.

Two white wings protruded from her back, somewhat small and covered in fine, downy feathers. They seemed to glow, emanating the grace within her. She lifted them, finding that the wings were an extension of her body. And then she was gone from the room, the light dying completely as she disappeared, wings and all.

….

To Be Continued…

Supernatural:

Redemption

Part Three


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